


Long Way Down

by reapwhatyousow (ohaiwrites)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Grumpy Old Men, Jesse McCree as his sassy sidekick, Overwatch - Freeform, Slow Burn, UST, also lots of fluff because Overwatch ruined my life, angst 76, hurt 76, in which Jack Morrison is basically a grumpy but very charming and very hot vigilante, took some liberties regarding lore but otherwise quite canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-03
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-07-12 00:13:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7076503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohaiwrites/pseuds/reapwhatyousow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's not much he's got left fighting for, but the battles he does have left, he fights without hesitation. As old and new friends come together to stand against the tyranny and corruption in the world, Jack Morrison makes it his mission to right past mistakes. It's only when he falls in love that he realizes - he's in way too deep.</p><p>_____<br/>Here comes a Soldier 76-centric story that involves a pairing with an OC, lots of angst, hurt and some fluff. God help us all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He should've known. Back in the days. Before the shit went south. He should've known. But well, he had been blinded by loyalty and arrogance and his own naive beliefs. When he had realized his mistakes it had been too late - and now Overwatch was gone, while the bad guys remained. So of course they were here as well. He should've well damn known. Jack Morrison shook his head and straightened his shoulders. No use contemplating the old stuff now. There were murderers, liars, thiefs and other scum running freely, and apparently, no government was gonna do shit about it.

"Cheers, love!" The young woman that had introduced herself as "Tracer" rushed past him, blasting one of the Talon operatives out of their way. Morrison looked over his shoulder, waiting for his other team members to arrive. In some distance, he could see McCree slouching around.

"They ain't gonna clear the area for us, _move_!"

That seemed to do the trick, and that weird cowboy hurried behind Reinhard's shield, stunning a group of enemies that tried flanking them. Morrison took them out easily enough, and he nodded shortly to the others. Maybe they might get this job done after all.

__________________________________

"Let's go again! I want to smash more! MORE!" 

Reinhard's laughter roared through the base and they were all sitting together, chatting, laughing, joking; adrenaline still rushing through their veines. Getting the team back together - and taking on newer faces like the former pilot and the mercenary - had felt familiar and strange all at once. Nevertheless, they had accomplished their mission, getting into the former Overwatch base before Talon and securing a few important pieces of tech that Winston and Torbjörn had carried out of there like children. 

"So that woman saving our asses back in that hallway, she one of yours?" McCree asked casually, lighting another cigarette. 

Morrison was confused. "What woman? Everyone of ours 's here."

Torbjörn looked up from his desk. "Wait, you didn't see her? Walked right down the stairs, in hallway B, shooting down four operatives that had McCree and me cornered like she never did anything else", he shrugged and looked at the cowboy. "Thought she was one of yours though."

"Nah. Broke off ties with everyone at Blackwatch a long while ago. Better this way."

"Well she saved my turret and my ass, so she's good in my book" said the Swede and returned his attention to the technical drawings spread out in front of him. 

"Pity", exhaled McCree, "guess she would've made a fine addition to this team."

Morrison shook his head. "You're not the least bit worried about some random stranger showing up in the middle of a gunfight?" He wasn't conviced. Anyone going into former Overwatch bases was either a shady mercenary paid by big corporations looking for secrets, a Talon operative - or a reckless vigilante like themselves. Last option excluded, the alternatives weren't looking very bright. 

"Huh, she did save them, didn't she?" Tracer chimed in, and smiled. "Maybe there are still good people left in this world."

"U-huh." Morrison shook his head slightly but remained quiet otherwise. If they wanted to celebrate their lucky streak by kidding themselves about the goodness of the world, he wasn't going to judge them. But he was damn well gonna make sure that mysterious shooter wasn't gonna point her guns at them next time they'd meet.

__________________________________

He couldn't sleep anymore. A nightmare had ended any hopes of recovering some sleep abruptly, and now there were soft snores coming from Winston, while Reinhard was mumbling random German phrases in his sleep. Morrison dressed quietly and went to find some coffee. The skyscraper where they were using a big appartment as their temporary base was located in the centre of Numbani, making it easy to slip in and out without drawing too much attention. When he walked through the common room he saw Torbjörn sleeping in his chair, mouth open, hands still clutching the pencil he drew his inventions with. As the soldier made it out of the building, he smiled to himself. The old engineer never stopped working, much like many of the other former Overwatch agents - and himself. Even now, trying to find some coffee, Morrision tried scouting the area for strongholds and possible access points, in case they were found and chased out of their base. He heard McCree stumble behind him and turned around.

"Hey. You going out for coffee? Mind if I join ya? I'm out of cigarettes." 

Morrison sighed at McCree's voice, then nodded. "Fine. But I'm not busting your ass out of trouble should anyone recognize you in your costume."

"Ha! Look who's talking, scarface." McCree usually talked a lot of game, just like his "high noon" nonsense, but his heart was in the right place. Worse though, his smile was infectious and Morrison felt himself lighten up. "Alright alright. Let's go."

They made it out of the building and to a local coffee shop McCree remembered spotting the other day, when a strange feeling of being watched gnawed at the back of his mind. Morrison leaned against the counter and tried to casually scout their surroundings. 

"Hey soldier" whispered McCree, "you trying to let everyone know we're a suspicious bunch of assholes?" And then, with a flirtatious smile, took the two cups of coffee from the barista. "Thanks, babe."

"I have a weird feeling about this place" replied the older man, "it's as if someone's been following us."

The cowboy grimaced as they walked over to an empty booth to drink their coffee in peace and quiet. "Boy, you really can't let it go, can you? Anyway. I was thinking: get some breakfast for everyone later? Another hour til the bakery downstairs opens."

"You scouted every single food place within three miles but you can't tell if someone's following us?"

"Hey, look. Priorities."

As they bickered for a little while longer, Morrison started to relax. Maybe he was acting paranoid after all. But could anyone blame him? He let a hostile force grow within his own organization, blinded by friendship. He might scold himself for being overly suspicious, but he'd hate himself if he'd just kept going on as before. That part of him died back at HQ. 

When they left an hour later, the sun was slowly rising and people were hurrying to work. After a short stop at a bakery where McCree bought a shit ton of food - "You only live once, right?"-  they made their way back to their safe house. They were waiting for the elevator to their apartment complex when they heard quiet steps behind them. 

"You!" McCree exhaled, seemingly quicker on the turnaround than Morrison. "Now hold up. Whatcha doin here?" Morrison dropped the bakery bag, hand on his concealed hand gun, and eyed up the stranger standig in the door to the staircase, hands raised in an apologetic manner.

"Okay. So. I'm not going to shoot you, okay? I just want to talk."

"You're not gonna shoot us? Well that's a relief" grumbled Morrison and took out his gun, aiming at her head. "Why you'd mention shooting us in the first place though, that is an explanation I'd _really_ like to hear."

McCree stood halfway between them and eyed the dropped food. "Aw man, really?"

"Shut up, kid. I'm not letting a Talon operative put one between my eyes for a loaf of bread."

"You think I'm Talon? Holy shit, you really did age faster than I thought. I mean.. Really?" She shook her head, frowning. With her hands still up, she nodded to McCree. "And you, I save your ass and you're more concerned about your fucking groceries than your buddy here shooting an innocent bystander?"

"Now hold up-"

"Innocent bystander? Is that what you call someone taking out four operatives with military precision, then disappearing and stalking a group of high profile agents only to reappear from the shadows?" He was getting angry, the stranger testing his patience.

"I am here to explain all that. Seriously. Could you please take down your gun? Neighbors could come, police might be called, etc etc. I can keep my hands up, if that's what you prefer."

"Jesse, check the staircase. If she's on her own we can take her upstairs for interrogation."

"Ay."

While the cowboy disappeared for a moment, Morrison took a short breath to look at the person standing there with her hands still up. She was casually dressed; black jeans, pair of strong leather boots, a light sweater. Curls framed her face and she... smiled?

"What are you looking at?"

She shrugged apologetically. "You're actually even taller than the posters make you look like. Grumpier, too."

Morrison rolled his eyes at her. "They're ancient posters. I'm not that person anymore."

"Oh. No, not them. I mean - there's quite the price on your head now, isn't there?"

McCree came back before he could answer. "Everything's clear. Can we go up now, eat, smoke and talk like civilized people?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what are accents? ffs, I'm having a hard time getting these right, especially differentiating between Jesse & Jack. so, apologies, non-US person here.  
> but anyway: thanks for reading! comments, feedback, anything is really appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's the next one! omg omg omg I'm so nervous, I really hope you like my OC. 
> 
> fixed a minor timeline inconsistency with Tracer/McCree/Overwatch I overlooked in the first chapter because the Overwatch timeline is hell.

Their place was big. Like - really, really fucking big. Being an Overwatch agent must have paid rather well back in the days, or maybe it was all the looting from corporations they used to rob nowadays? Anyway, Claire still marveled at a couch big enough for seven people and a dining table with about a dozen chairs lined up when the guy with the poncho - McCree if she wasn't mistaken - poked her arm. 

"We're here, sweetheart" he whispered in a mischevious tone and winked. Claire smiled back and decided that he was one less person to worry about. 

"Get over here and sit down" commanded the older man who she had identified as Jack "Soldier 76" Morrison rather easily by the big scar on his forehead. And of course by the tone of a man who was used to bossing people around - former Overwatch commander and all. He pointed to one of the chairs by the large table, eyes narrowed. Boy, she definitely would have to worry about him.

As she walked over to the table, she tried to catch a few glimpses into the adjacent rooms and hallways. She counted two hallways with several doors, probably leading to bedrooms and at least two bathrooms, if the usual Numbani luxury apartment complex layout was any indication. When she got to the chair, Morrison had already set up the other chairs so that she'd have to face everyone else head-on. She sat down, slowly, front door in her back. Morrison just stared at her, then grunted.

"Get Winston and Ziegler over here", he hissed, "and lock the front door."

"Oh come on Morrison, we can talk about this over breakfast just as nicely." McCree opened a sliding door behind the dining table, revealing a spacious kitchen. "Besides, if I have to wait any longer for that deliciously smelling bread I'm gonna shoot someone."

"You can shoot her then. Saves us the trouble." Morrison hadn't taken his eyes off of her, forehead creased and arms folded. For a second, Claire wasn't sure if he was really farther gone than the rumors had her believe, but McCree started laughing heartily and she quickly relaxed. Fucking dry humor. Okay. _That_ she could work with.

"What's going on here?" said a kind but stern voice. A woman, with blonde hair falling out of a loose pony tail, stood in the kitchen's entrance and looked curiously at the three of them. She seemed so.. graceful. There was no other word. 

Morrison gestured in Claire's direction. "Just some mercenary tracker we picked up. Once John Wayne here decides to follow orders we can start the interrogation."

"I told you before, nobody knows who John fucking Wayne is anymore."

Morrison raised an eyebrow and took his gaze off Claire to face the younger man. "Is it so hard to just do as you're told?"

"Only on Sundays and holidays, love" replied McCree and tipped his hat. Morrison let out a small groan. He was clearly frustated. But why? Did he really think she was here to assasinate them? Like the worst assassin... ever?

"Okay, I think that's enough." The blonde interrupted them with the patience of someone who's seen this sort of thing before. She then turned to Claire. "Let me introduce myself: my name is Angela Ziegler. I am a doctor and associate of these two gentlemen here, and I'm sure we can resolve this peacefully."

Ziegler walked over to the dining table and sat down on the other side of the table. Her smile was gentle and warm, and everything about her radiated comfort. "And you are...?"

"--She's the one how saved Björni's and my ass two days ago" interrupted her McCree. "Not sure why he's acting like she's a reincarnation of Reyes."

A fist came down on the table at the sound of the all too familiar name, and before Claire could answer, Morrison made another, quieter attempt.

"Angela-" 

"Jack. Please."

She had her hand on his arm, a calming but demanding gesture. Morrison sighed - and closed his mouth. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and kept quiet. They all looked at her now, and Claire's heart started racing. She was actually nervous. She had worked so hard, so long, for this chance. Biting back a shiver, she took a long breath in and tried to sit up straight. 

"Uhm. Hi. First of all: thanks for not shooting me."

She let out a small laugh and Ziegler smiled warmly but seemed somewhat distant at the same time. McCree, who had taken a seat at the opposite end of the table, winked and made a pistol hand gesture. He was hilarious. Morrison however didn't move a single muscle in his face, corners of his mouth still down and a frown wrinkling the big scar on his forehead. Okay. She could do this. Focus.

"I'm Claire. Miller. And actually I am a mercenary tracker-" she looked at Morrison, "but I wasn't tracking you. Or. Well. I was. But not to sell you to some corrupted government or anything. I just-" she took another breath, "--wanted to speak with you - all of you." She made a gesture towards the other rooms in which she assumed more members of this loose organization were either still sleeping or slowly getting ready for the day. "I have something that could be of interest to you."

"Not interested" grunted the soldier, but Ziegler nodded. "Go on, please."

 "Some years ago, I worked for Vishkar. Back then, they gave me a chance when no one else would, so I did pretty much anything they asked me to: gathering intel on competitors, corporate espionage, manipulation of stakeholders even. Left when I realized what a bunch of ruthless assholes they were and started re-focusing my work on other things. But til this day I keep a close network of corporate management contacts from many of the most influential corporations out there. I know who's in their pockets - and who they want to have in their pockets. For example: there are prices on most of your heads, especially those who are deemed more scientifically or politically influential."

She looked at Ziegler and Morrison now, wondering if they even had the slightest idea of how much Vishkar would pay to get their hands on them. Ziegler's sharp mind as their new ressource? Morrison's potential as a brainwashed poster boy for the corporation? She didn't even want to think about it.

"Basically I can give you access to information about most of their dirt - that's why I was at that base, by the way. I had heard rumors that Vishkar was interested in something there, and decided to check it out. Then I ran into you" Claire nodded to McCree. "And since I had tried to find you anyway, I decided to follow you as best I could."

"Wait. So you knew Talon was gonna be there?" Morrison scratched his head.

"No. Just heard something about Vishkar."

"Hm." For the first time since she stumbled into them, the former commander didn't look at her with complete disdain. "It is interesting info, I give you that."

"I had heard rumors, but these days so many things are complete fabrications and myths. I..." Claire swallowed. It was now or never. "I would like to work with you all. Join the team, so to speak. Help you out with intel - and maybe be able to look at myself in the mirror a little better next time I remember I used to work for Vishkar."

___________________________________

"Over my dead body" said Morrison and stood up. "I'm not dragging a civilian into all this."

That woman - Claire - was chatting with Tracer in one of the rooms they used as offices. Both women had taken immediate liking to each other, and Morrison was grateful for a chance to talk this through with his group first. 

"Clearly she's not a civilian" corrected him Angela. 

"That's right man. You should've seen how she took the Talon bastards out. Guess she had some form of training at _some_ point." 

Morrison shook his head and started pacing around. _Something_ was off. 

"You are correct, Jesse" called Winston while he walked towards them from his office, a data pad in hand. "Old files says she was in the European army. Dishonorable discharge."

"I wonder what happened?" asked Reinhard, stroking his beard. 

"Not sure. She said Vishkar were the only ones who took her in, right? Could be anything from insubordination to murder, you never know with the EU forces. They're so impulsive." Winston grabbed another jar of peanut butter from the kitchen and shrugged. "We could just ask her."

"We went back and forth with her for two hours. I say we give her a chance" said McCree, and Morrison stopped in his step.

"I'm not taking a complete stranger on a mission with me!" His voice was getting louder, clearly showing his anger.

"To be fair, you're still saying Tracer and me are strangers to you, too." 

"That's different."

Morrison shot the cowboy another look. Sure, he still felt he hardly knew McCree and Tracer - but that was in comparison to his old team. Reinhardt, Torbjörn, Angela - they had come up together during the rise of Overwatch, going on many many missions together. Even though he had met McCree and Tracer when Overwatch was still active, they had never shared active missions and he was still feeling like he was getting to know them. 

McCree scoffed. "Eh, it's not her fault you're so slow to trust people."

He sighed. Yeah, he didn't really trust people, alright. Not anymore. 

"Fine. What do you propose?"

"I have a suggestion" offered Reinhardt, eyes focusing intently on Morrison. "We let her get intel on a small mission. If she is not good we can ask her to go please."

They were all looking at him now. Apparently, Miller had made quite an impression on them. Even he had to admit that she seemed smart, upfront about what she wanted and clear on her means in achieving it. Still. Something didn't sit quite right with him - there was just the slightest hint of evasion to some questions, the slightest change of pace when asked about what she expected to achieve with them. It could be nothing - or everything.

"Okay. But someone's going to keep a close eye on her at all times."

Angela took a slow sip from her green tea. "Are you offering to take her under your wings, Jack?"

No, he wasn't. But he was intent on finding out what was going on with her. He would have never taken so much interest or effort to someone his whole other squad seemed to find reasonable - but he had learned a very hard way the failings resulting from an unaware self-assurance like that. Jack Morrison was many things - but not this person anymore.

To hell with it.

"She can start today."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! I'm so so happy to know some people enjoy this, let me know what you think. <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every chapter I start I think: "yesss moving ahead with this." And then characters happen. But well. Enjoy! <3

"I... don't know what to say. Thank you." Claire beamed at him, and he couldn't help but return a small smile. "You will not regret this. I promise."

"Careful now. I don't take easily to unkept promises." 

He tried to sound serious, but she just grinned in return. Morrison stood in the door, a little unsure of what to do next. He had offered to run a test mission with this stranger in the heat of the moment, an impulse born out of frustration and mistrust. Standing here with her, with that genuine beam and wide eyes, he slowly realized what he had gotten himself into: training a new recruit, and evaluating her capacity to join their little group of misfits. He was responsible for her now, whether he liked it or not, and... well. Why the hell had he agreed to this? 

_I need to get a goddamn grip._

"So what do you want me to do?" She sounded earnest. 

"There are rumors that Vishkar is after a former Overwatch scientist. I want you to evaluate the threat and walk me through every step you take doing so. There will be no call, no research, no meeting, no talk, - no goddamn break - without me knowing about it and signing off on it. Got it?"

Claire raised an eyebrow. "Geez, you really got that commander thing down, haven't you?" She was clearly teasing him, and there was warmth in her tone. Still. 

_Still._

"Don't start quipping around on me or you can leave right this second. I already have Jesse on my ass, constantly bickering about.. _something_."

She laughed, and Morrison felt himself relax.

"Okay okay. I got it. No quipping, no secrets, or I'll never see you again. I can do that." Claire extended her hand. "Deal?"

He reached out and shook her hand firmly, looking straight into her eyes. They had the strangest color... - Green? Grey? Brown? - ...and he lost his train of thought. 

Morrison eventually realized he was shaking her hand a little too long, staring at her a little too intensely.  

"Sorry. Long day" he mumbled and let go of her hand. Back straightened, eyes narrowed, he quickly returned to his usual distant self.

"You have yourself a deal."

She looked at him silently, eyes darting back and forth between his hand and face, head cocked to the side. If she wanted to say something, she clearly held back, and he was grateful for it. Maybe she was already following the "no quipping" command or she was confused; either way, it gave him a chance to steer the conversation back on track.

They chatted for a while and she suggested to start with online research, hitting up some of her former contacts and establishing a connection to anyone who might know more. It was as good a start as any, and they agreed she used his terminal for the time being. Should she set up any trap, he was sure Winston would be able to retrieve any compromising data from his terminal later. Then there was the fact that she had come to their building with a small automatic and nothing else. She'd need her own provisions, so Morrison arranged for Tracer to check out an address provided by their new guest to gather some of her clothes and equipment. 

Claire was already typing and switching quickly between what looked like two dozen tabs in her browser. Morrison cleared his throat.

"I'm gonna lie down for a while. Wake me as soon as you find anything."

"Sure thing" she replied without even so much as looking up. Good. It would probably give him an hour or two to catch up on the sleep he missed last night when he wandered around with McCree - who, by the way, had spread out on the sofa shortly after their group discussion, dozing off immediately. First vouching for Miller to be taken in and then cheating himself out of any responsibility by taking a nap. Typical.

Morrison retreated to his bedroom and let himself fall onto the bed without taking his shoes off. While he lay there, he scolded himself for the shit he pulled today. His insomnia was becoming a problem. He was too tired, had problems focusing, and couldn't keep his temper in check. Even now he hadn't quite made up his mind about her yet. He wasn't sure if he was too suspicious - or if he wasn't suspicious enough. And getting lost in some woman's pretty eyes like a teenager in heat? Rookie bullshit. For fuck's sake. His thoughts circled back to insults directed at himself as he slowly drifted to sleep, urging himself to get a grip on the situation.

 _A goddamn grip_.

...brown with grey spots. He was fairly sure.

________________________________________

He mumbled in his sleep. Claire wasn't sure where he'd been and most of the others were out or busy, so she had peeked into each of the many bedrooms, trying to find him. At least that's what she told herself. She could've asked Jesse or Tracer, but had dreaded the moment she'd have to find him. Now that she stood in his room, she felt a little uneasy. He was lying there rather peacefully, and as soon as she woke him, he'd start bossing her around again.

Sure, she wanted this. This chance, this training. But where everyone had been keeping at least a polite distance, Morrison had been outright hostile. If he decided her work wasn't good...

_I'm actually nervous._

Well, she had proven herself to worse assholes. With a swift motion, she crossed the room, feeling like a trespasser in a private place. Tracer had told her they only used this apartment temporarily, but most rooms were brimming with personal items, photos, clothes or notes. Torbjörn's belongings were neatly folded and placed carefully next to a hundred drawings of machineries, while Mercy had her walls plastered with photographs of her friends, family and people who looked like former patients. In the brief moments she had wandered around, Claire felt like she had walked into some secret part of their lives that only few other people knew about. And they didn't really mind, either. Reinhardt had called her over when Claire had knocked in her search for Morrison, proudly showing her a poster of David Hasselhoff. "A true classic!" he had exclaimed, pointing out the signature of the singer, humming some melody Claire couldn't really place.

Morrison's room on the other hand? As strange as the man himself. There wasn't any personal item on display, walls were blank. The infamous Soldier 76 mask lay on a nightstand, and a table held a collection of guns and ammunition. When she had spotted him, he was resting fully clothed on a made bed that looked like it hadn't been slept in properly for days.

Letting out a small breath, she gently patted his arm. Morrison just turned his head to the side, apparently dreaming vividly. Claire sighed. Of course he wasn't easy to wake. Of course.

She grabbed his shoulder, and shook him a little harder. "Hey, you need to---"

At first she didn't know what hit her. She was flying.

Moving. Landing.

Hard.

Her instincts kicked in when her back slammed against the floor. Dashing her head to the right she evaded a blow to the head and managed to land a punch into his left side. The punch must have surprised him, because he stopped in his movement, eyes wide, his face displaying shock and disbelief. As he processed the situation, she thought she saw something else: embarassment.

"You didn't tell me to just poke you with a long stick to wake you" groaned Claire. Morrison hurried to take his weight off her, rose to his feet and helped her up.

"I am so sorry." He looked vulnerable. "Are you okay?" His voice was hoarse with worry.

She looked down on herself, flattening out her sweater.

"I'm good." 

She actually was. Many of her fellow soldiers had woken up with night terrors in the years she served. Duty took its toll on most of them. Besides, it wasn't as if she had never shoved someone as a reflex to feeling her personal space invaded. She wanted to tell him, _I've been there_ , wanted to take some of the shame. But she wasn't sure how he'd react. She didn't get him at all. 

Morrison looked crushed and furious at the same time. She could nearly feel how his body tensed up.

"Hey - bad dream. Soldier training. Bad combination. I'll be more careful next time" she offered quietly in an attempt to take at least some of the edge off.

She shouldn't have to be careful, they both knew that much. But in this moment, he just nodded thankfully, then recollected himself as if he only remembered that he was supposed to be a different person. It was as if he'd just flipped on a switch - his weight shifted, facial impressions hardened, eyes refocused.

_How did he do that?_

Not that Claire would mind, the sooner they could get to work, the better. Still, he was weird. So fucking weird.

"You got anything yet?" He tried a colloquial tone.

"I have a contact who offered to share some intel over drinks. If you sign off, we can meet them tonight."

"Them?"

"Someone I've worked with before. Goes only by alias. Probably omnic."

Morrison stiffled a yawn behind his hand. His carefully crafted tough guy mask cracked - being a sleepy head broke character. Claire felt herself drawn to him, wanted to get to know _this_ person. More so than the commander persona, that much was sure. It was rather adorable. 

"Yeah, alright. Let's meet 'em. You can brief me after I showered." He still sounded weary.

"Great! I'll get back to them to sort out the meeting."

The reply was merely a grunt. "Mhmm." 

Without another word he walked past her into the hallway and out of sight. Claire wondered for a brief moment whether he'd take it back once he shook of the sleepiness. He was so strange. Nothing about him made sense. Full charge into someone who's trying to wake you? The man definitely got demons. But she also felt as if she had seen something she wasn't supposed to see, not even his private quarters, not even how evenly he breathed while he dreamt. His guard had slipped, and she caught a glimpse at a man more raw, more real, than whatever version he got going on for himself.

_Focus now. There's a meeting to prepare._

He had probably been half asleep when he agreed to her plan, but she took what she could get. Meeting Ari would be interesting - it was the first time in years that they were in the same city, as it turned out. Dragging Morrison along was a complication to her usual proceedings of course, but well. She had worked in worse circumstances. Far worse.

What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sleepy Jack Morrison is my new everything. I'm not sorry.


	4. Chapter 4

Ari hadn't shown up yet.

Morrison sat across from her, forearms spread out on the table. He was still drinking from the same beer bottle they had first gotten when they arrived. That had been two hours ago. With the exception of his order, he hadn't said a word yet. Instead, he simply stared at his hands, his face giving nothing away.

This was not going as planned. 

At all.

Claire gulped down the rest of her third beer, once more looking around the room as incospiciously as possible. If there was a hell, she was fairly sure she was in it right now - being forced to sit with grumpy Morrison in silence forever, failing her objective. The latter was beyond her control of course, but it pissed her off just the same. The other thing though? _That_ she could do something about.

"My brother had a poster of you in his room" she attempted a casual conversation, but was interrupted by Morrison's dismissive head shake. 

"Everyone had one" he stated very matter of fact, still looking down at the bottle in his hands.

It was true of course. There hadn't been a single child's room without an Overwatch poster, back in the days. Her teenage brother on the other hand? Total fan. Huge Overwatch nerd. One time he spent weeks molding a hammer vaguely resembling that of Reinhardt. Claire sighed, a painful pang spreading through her chest. This was not the time to think about family matters. She wasn't even sure why she had brought it up.

"So-"

"Your contact ain't coming, huh?" Straight to the point, as always. There was no chit chat with this guy, no taking things slow.

Morrison took a sip from his beer. How he could still drink that hours-old lukewarm shit was beyond her.

"I guess not."

There was no use denying it. Ari was a no-show, that much was obvious. Her temporary associate said nothing, but watched her face from the corner of his eye.

"Are you... I can get my stuff later" Claire's voice was barely a whisper, and she hated herself for it. Her disappointment, her anger at herself, all clearly on display for him. What he had said earlier today wasn't hard to understand: this mini-mission was a test, and now, a few hours in, she had already failed it.

_I can't believe this is happening._

"What do you mean?" pulled her a familiar solemn voice back into reality.

"Well Ari didn't show up and-"

"So what?" Morrison leaned back into his chair, emptying the bottle in one long swig. When he saw her confusion, he started laughing, voice deep and raspy. "Don't tell me you're surprised I'm not pissed? Believe me, I've seen my fair share of no-shows in my time. It happens."

Claire's face fell blank. 

_"Not a total asshole after all."_

He laughed even louder than before. Had she said that out loud? Shit. SHIT.

"Guess not" he grinned, and she felt herself lighten up. Fuck her, maybe he wasn't so bad after all? 

"S--Sorry" she stuttered, "I'm just-- I really wanted this to work."

"I get it." He nodded, then paused for a moment as if thinking. When he started again, he sounded lighter than every other time he had spoken with her so far. On this long, never-ending day. "What would you do next? If this was your solo mission, I mean. How'd you proceed with this?"

Claire bit her lip. Making something up was useless, and she couldn't get it any more wrong than this. Sure, he could say no, but then what? 

"I'd go underground. Find out what spooked Ari. Re-evaluate the source. Dig up other leads." When she looked up, he was watching her, then nodded, encouraging her to go on. "Alone. I'd go underground by myself."

"And you'd do this why?"

What the fuck, was he _mentoring_ her? The thought made her chuckle.

"Because I'm quicker, more flexible and more adaptive digging up intel by myself rathern than running everything by you."

Morrison put down his bottle and crossed his arms. He looked pleased. "Good. I expect you to report back as soon as you find something tangible."

_______________________________________

The night had been better than expected. Definitely better. After he had taken a very long, very cold shower, he had tried to remain as professional as possible, shifting his focus to observing Miller's behavior. While the night had been otherwise uneventful with a no-show of her source, Morrison had still learned more than he had expected to.

First, Morrison now knew that Miller honestly, eagerly wanted to work with them. He saw the frustration in her face growing as time passed, eyeing her carefully whenever she scouted the room. Which she did quite a lot. Suspicion or no, nobody was that good an actress. 

Second, he had realized that shooting up bad guys wasn't enough to sustain him. It wasn't easy to admit, but experiencing Miller's unbound motivation was refreshing. Angela, Torbjörn, Reinhardt, even Tracer and Jesse - they all fought this fight because they were used to it. It had been part of their life for so long, getting back into it felt familiar and necessary. Miller though? She could do anything. She could go out there, live a normal life, apply at a security firm maybe. She could even work as a mercenary and lead a more normal life than the one he had. And still, she chose this. Got devastated when confroted with the possibility of failing, even. 

Working with someone new felt exiting. Which is why he hoped she found out more about the whereabouts of Mei-Ling Zhou. Rumors had it the environmentalist was eager to support the former Overwatch agents in their endeavours, and her knowledge might prove invaluable. With two new team additions on the horizon his mood brightened significantly. Smirking at the prospect, he took the leftover pizza from the fridge and sat down on the sofa.

"Don't tell me you already drove her off."

McCree stood in the door, arms folded, brows furrowed alarmingly. His tone was between teasing and sour, Morrison's reply solely responsible for which way this conversation would go.

"Of course I have. If there's one thing we really don't need around here, it's more members of this select group." He tried to sound serious and annoyed, and McCree let out a small groan.

"Are you fucking kid--- Oh, you fucker." McCree rolled his eyes, then did a finger pistol gesture. "Good one, grumpy."

He wandered over to Morrison, who chuckled and offered the younger man some pizza. 

"Oh someone's in a good mood" said Jesse, stuffing half a slice into his mouth. "Bu she..roush...ly." He swallowed. "Where is she?"

"You just missed her. Contact was no-show. Sent her our for recon."

"By herself?!"

Jack took another slice for himself and put his feet up on the table. "Better this way."

McCree shook his head, then got up. "The world is full of wonders" he remarked and walked to the fridge. "You want a beer?"

"Thanks, but I'm good."

He actually meant it. 

Over the next hour, he caught up with McCree and finished dinner, then went to his room. What a weird day. But as strange as the day had been, maybe he just needed to get over himself a little more often - something Jesse would agree on for sure. Morrison was aware the others thought he should be more trusting, more open. Maybe they were right after all? Seeing what he saw at the bar, he was now convinced that Miller was on their side. Why had he been so bent on insisting otherwise?

_Because if something's too good to be true, it usually is._

With a sigh, he took off his shoes, undressed, and slipped under the covers.

Time would tell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always: thanks for reading! Your comments make my days. Seriously, they make me so happy and I'm glad you're all with me on this little adventure.  
> <3


	5. Chapter 5

Eleven days. 

Of course he knew that recon took time. But except for Reinhardt and him, everyone had travelled to El Dorado, supporting local efforts against a re-grouped Los Muertos chapter. Morrison was bored out of his mind, and there were only so many exercises he could do with his old partner before it got repetitive. Ziegler had messaged him a few times, and he knew he could take a flight any time, but he didn't want to leave base in case Miller came back.

"Come on my friend! Let's do this!" The big pool of muscles sat cheerfully at the table, arm bent, ready to wrestle. 

"I ain't arm wrestling you, Reinhardt" snorted Morrison and opened the sliding door to the kitchen. "But if you're hungry, you can chop some onions and peppers instead."

"Okay! Okay. But don't forget your training, or you'll get lazy!" Reinhardt gave him a little nudge, and Morrison was once again happy that the old guy was on his side. 

"Ain't done nothing else but train with you in the last days. Plus, if I have to eat another slice of pizza I'm gonna scream."

The old man smiled warmly. "Yes, I understand. I know how you like good food." He knew him too damn well.

It was true. Cooking was a welcome change. They had both taken to a rather comfortable lifestyle with that huge apartment to themselves. A lowkey pre-cognitive omnic model cleaned the rooms every other day, and both Morrison and Reinhardt had spent their days reading up on missions, doing weights and ordering in. Going out was only possible during nights and early mornings, when the risk of someone recognizing them was lowered significantly. Reinhardt was happy to just sit in his room and video chat with Brigitte, who was currently out scouting new armor improvements for him. 

But there was more to it, of course - back in his commanding days, Morrison had often had to sit through meetings, briefings and other occasions with both friends and acquaintances alike, stuffing themselves with microwaved food or the horrible cantine stuff their headquarter served. After a few years, he had made it obligatory that everyone brought something homecooked or baked to these meetings, and it caught on like wildfire. To this day, Ziegler made the tastiest Swiss pastries and Torbjörn mixed up a mean barbeque sauce. 

_It's never gonna be the same again._

With a small sigh, he took the pre-ordered groceries a local store had delivered this morning and began his prep. He wanted to roast a few steaks with some vegetables and potatoes on the side. Nothing fancy, but something to keep his hands - and mind - occupied. 

"You know Jesse has told me he will come back soon" began Reinhardt as he peeled onions. "They are done with the mission so far and he says he misses the nightlife in Numbani." Reinhard looked up and grinned. "But I think he just misses you."

Morrison just grunted in return and tried to suppress a smirk. If anyone had told him back in the days he'd come to appreciate the quipping John Wayne hommage, he would've declared that person delusional. But, well. Many things had changed and so had he.

"What about the others? They ain't coming yet?"

"I think they want to spend a little more time to set up defenses for the local resistance. Torbjörn has already set up two dozen new turrets!"

He laughed at that. Of course he had. They kept working in comfortable silence for a while.

"So, old friend. This girl is special, yes?"

Morrison raised an eyebrow in confusion before he returned to preparing the meat. "I don't know what you're talking about, Reinhardt."

"Ah, come on. You are not back in action only because you wait for her here? This is nonsense. I could wait here, you know that."

It was a classic Reinhardt conversation. To say he was direct would be an understatement - but in this case, Morrison couldn't really agree with him. It was necessary, smarter, to wait for her here. With him at the base, they could get right onto the next step. Besides, he had used some of his off time to find out more about different rogue Blackwatch chapters - something he hoped would lead him closer to uncovering what shit had been going on over the last years before the fall of Overwatch.

_Something, which I could have done in El Dorado as well._

Scoffing, Morrison shook his head. "She has potential. It's good to see someone new getting on board."

"Ah, hmm, hmm." Reinhardt smiled to himself, but didn't probe it any further. 

Rolling his eyes at the old man, he put the first slice of red meat into the frying pan. 

_Getting sentimental on me, old pal._

He wasn't sure if he meant Reinhardt or himself.

_____________________________________________

It had been raining all day. Her hair stuck to her head, her face, her neck, just like all of her clothes clung to her body. She was not comfortable. 

Being comfortable was not the point though. Being safe was. And as of right now, she had three men on her ass, waiting for her to show. Claire had made it to the roof of a theatre, hiding out behind large neon signs. Once night fell, she could try losing her company so she could get back to base. Until then, she was stuck and exposed to the rain. 

_Just great._

Usually, Claire was fairly patient. At least on the job. She took her time evaluating the intel she could find on Ari, even dug up two new future sources in the process. But right now, she just wanted to get back. She had everything they needed. And more. 

Grinning, she checked on her gun one more time. Fully loaded and operational. She couldn't wait to get back and show off her findings.

_Eat this, Morrison._

The fact that she was so close to success quickened her heartbeat. There was no way he wouldn't be satisfied, and this meant she might be able to stay on board. Right on track. She was one step closer to finding him. One step closer to _stopping_  him.

Claire knew very well that she hadn't handled her first day with the Overwatch soldiers very... professionally. The whole thing was personal to her, and she couldn't risk failing. It was her only chance of getting her revenge, and she could only tell Morrison - if at all - once she knew for sure he was to be trusted. At least that's what she told herself the first time they all talked. Later that night, Morrison being as approachable and kind as he had been, she had already regretted keeping this part to herself. 

Sighing, she tried to close her eyes for a moment's rest. 

 _I couldn't have known he'd be_ this  _special._

She had read the reports on Overwatch, of course. All of them. But usually, there was only a tiny fraction of truth behind the myths of great men. And Morrison wasn't the commander any more - in fact, he was even more ruthless, ill-tempered and moody than expected. Still, sometimes, she had seen a spark of something, _someone_ , that came pretty close to the stories about greatness, loyalty and bravery. In that way, she underestimated him and overestimated herself. Clearly, keeping this from him was a horrible idea, not to mention the disastrous execution. Coming clear now on the other hand? He'd probably kick her back out before she could finish the sentence.

Still undecided on how much she should tell him, she drifted to sleep.

 

"We should kill her. Smash her head in, it's easier to get a cold body to the boss than a resisting body." 

Claire came to herself with a bang, all senses heightened, body alarmed. They had found her. Fuck. _Fuck_.

"You can't even swing your bat hard enough to hit a ball, sucker" whispered a second voice back. He sounded annoyed, bored. 

Trying to determine where they were, Claire focused on the sounds around her. Sure, Jesse had introduced her with that "took four men out" story, but they both knew that the Talon operatives had been distracted, backs turned. Taking them out was child's play. This right here on the other hand? These men had been following her, they were dangerous, and she was far less inclined to start shooting in the centre of a big city full of civilians.

She thought she heard something shuffle behind her. Good. That meant they hid on the other side of the neon sign. Carefully opening her eyes, she quickly realized she was right - and completely fucked. A third man cowered before her, her own gun in his hand, a disgusting grin now spreading over his face.

"Wakey wakey" he said loudly. "What have we got here?"

It wasn't really a decision she made. She knew instinctively that the other two men would need a short moment to come around, and that she would have to hit the exact right spot on the first try in order to stand a chance. 

Eyes on the gun, she bolted forwards, shoving her opponent's arm to the side. He shot and missed, but it hardly registered since she was already on top of him, landing a hard punch to his throat. His eyes widened, airway severly impaired, and his body went limp. Good. That would take him out of the fight. Claire jumped to the left in order to reach her gun that had fallen out of his hand. Behind her, two men shouted angry obscenities at her, a baseball bat swishing so close to her head she could feel the air blowing from the swing. They were here. Gun in hand she turned around and shot the baseball bat swinging asshole in the chest.

Scrambling to get up, she only saw the knife when it was too late. It cut into her left torso, barely missing her kidney. Groaning in pain, she turned and put her whole weight on the arm that was trying to land another hit. She could hear his bones break and the knife fall to the ground. It gave her another second to aim - and shoot. 

_Everyone must've heard the commotion by now._

Looking at the three men lying before her, Claire grabbed her backpack and quickly peaked inside. Everything was still there. Fucking idiots. As she tried to make her way downstairs, she stumbled and nearly fell down the stairs. The wound where the knife had grazed her was superficial, but it was hurting and bleeding like hell. Gun in hand, she pressed down on the wound, trying to stop the bleed - a futile endeavor. She could forget about getting a cab with blood pouring out of her like this. Walking, then.

Trying to blend into the shadows, Claire made her way back to the apartment complex. It wasn't a very long distance, but she circled around and tried to cover her tracks as best she could. Cursing, she scolded herself as she felt her vision blurr. She should have learned his damn phone number. Weak and stumbling, she reached the building's entry after an hour. Turning around, checking for tails once more, she finally rang the doorbell.

Long agonizing moments passed before someone answered.

"Who's there?" said a raspy voice.

Getting out only a groan in reply, Claire leaned against the door. Just before her vision went blank, she felt the buzzer ring and her own body weight moving the door.

Then nothing. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this as a chapter with fluff. And then... I'm sorry.
> 
> PS: Reinhardt knows. He fucking knows.
> 
> \-----  
> As always, thank you all so much! Sharing this with you is a joy <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I introduce to you a new invention: fluffy angst. Or angsty fluff. Enjoy!

Can't shock a soldier with blood. 

It's the most common thing. Soldiers got injured, hurt. Soldiers died.

And for all intents and purposes, Jack Morrison believed himself to be a soldier.

Yet when he saw her lying there -- he nearly had a heart attack. For a second, he thought she was dead. Reinhardt said something to him, a white noise in the back of his head that didn't quite register. Only when he realized she was still breathing could he focus again, sounds and words beginning to make sense again.

"Get her", said Reinhardt, "I will cover our tracks."

Not wasting another second, Morrison picked her up and carried her to the elevator, Reinhardt cleaning up after them, wiping away a trail of blood. In their apartment, he placed her on the couch, taking a moment to examine the area where something, _someone_ , had cut deeply into her flesh. 

_This ain't life threatening._

Still, there was so much blood. So much. And she had fainted, which meant that she had probably already lost more blood than she should.

"I will get the supplies" shouted Reinhardt and rushed past them. Ziegler kept samples of some of her own invented medical supplies in her room, and usually they included some of the nanobiotic appliances that could save lives. 

_You've handled this a thousand times before._

It was true - only last month Torbjörn had been wounded by a gang member during fighting. His injury had looked far worse than this one did, his body nearly bleeding out within minutes. Luckily, Ziegler had been there - and while she wasn't with them now, some of her best inventions were within reach. Pressing firmly onto the gash, Morrison felt his heart racing in his chest. It was not supposed to go like this. Not like this.

"Look what I found in Angela's room!" exclaimed Reinhardt and gestured to take over to keep pressure on the wound, handing Morrison a small container with a greasy substance inside - a salve invented to speed up a patient's clotting process on open wounds - and a syringe filled with a drug that was supposed to increase Miller's blood cell production.

Morrison set the shot with the routine of a commanding officer - at least something valuable from all the fighting - and paused. Her face was pale, pulse faint. The shot he just gave her should improve her condition within moments, but he still needed to close the gash that Reinhardt kept pressurizing.

_Come on._

Miller groaned. As she came to herself, some of her color had already returned to her cheeks. Ziegler was a goddamn genius. A few decades back, she would have died, right here before him---

The moment she opened her eyes, glossy and weak, Morrison felt like a hundred tons were lifted from his chest. Her eyes searched the room, and he could see how she began realizing where she was, reorienting herself. She shook her head and tried to get up.

"Don't move" he said gently, softly holding her down by her shoulders. She attempted to say something, but her voice was too strained.

"Don't speak either" he chided mildly and reached for one of the pillows that he carefully slid under her head. Miller smiled and rolled her eyes. Even without words, she was teasing him. Morrison felt himself smile in return, an unwelcome pain aching in his chest. 

The effect she had on him was eerie.

She pulled him out of his thoughts when she reached for him, fingertips brushing the back of his hand. He felt his heart drop.

_No._

Swallowing hard, Morrison withdrew his hand from underneath hers to grab the rest of the medical supplies Reinhardt had brought, then looked away.

"Just close your eyes and relax" offered Reinhardt patiently, and Morrison told himself to arm wrestle as many times as the old guy wanted to, next time he'd ask. Miller remained silent, and closed her eyes without making any further attempts at speaking or moving.

"This might sting a little" Morrison said quietly, more to himself than to her, before applying the nanobiotic salve on the wound. He usually worked with precision and focus, shutting out his surroundings as best as he could, but her strained breaths were nearly too much to bare. He had tended to many soldiers in his time on the battle field, to far worse injured soldiers. He would have to scold himself later for reacting this way. He knew it would be okay, that this was an injury they could heal rather easily thanks to the medical advancements of Ziegler. He knew. At this point, he wasn't even sure if he wanted to figure out what the hell is damn problem was.

Done. 

_Don't look._

Not knowing what to do next, Morrison started cleaning up the blood, carefully cleansing her skin with a wet cloth that Reinhardt handed him. He paid close attention to keeping his hands out of Miller's reach, even though he wasn't sure if she would even want to reach for him again. 

"I think she's good for now" said Reinhardt, pointing to the wound from which only small drains of blood were leaking out of. The gash was beginning to clot, the salve was already working. Good. From the corner of his eyes he saw the older man, gently stroking Miller's hair, gaze fixed on Morrison.

"I--- I'm--- gonna clean myself-" he announced and hurried to one of the bathrooms. Washing her blood off his hands and forearms, he shook his head. He couldn't stop. He couldn't stop thinking about her. 

_She's gonna be okay._

After taking a few desperate moments trying to calm his breathing, he returned to the living room where Miller had fallen asleep, Reinhardt still stroking her hair and softly whispering incomprehensible sentences in German to her. Observing them silently from a distance, Morrison slowly realized that taking the responsibility for a new recruit, _for her_ , was something that had went straight over his head.

_I'm absolutely, totally screwed._

________________________________________

They had barely talked since they had left. And it came as no surprise to him - he had pushed her away, again and again. She was getting on his last nerves, and finishing this mission became a test of patience.

Yes, she had found Mei-Lingh, which was more than he had told her to find out. He was furious that she hadn't followed his order and hadn't come right back once she had the intel on Vishkar confirmed. They were indeed looking for his former colleague. But no, she just had to put herself in more danger, confirming suspicions about Mei-Lingh's location by herself, and nearly getting herself killed in the process - not even speaking of possibly making their base. Now they were sitting in a cabin in the parameters of former Overwatch Watchpoint: Greenland, waiting for back-up. He wasn't sure, but he thought he had seen a truck on the way in. _Of course_ this wasn't a simple escort mission, asking Mei-Lingh to accompany them to safety. _Of course_ it had to be a proper mission, fighting not only possible, but quite likely on the horizon. As a result, Morrison had requested Tracer and McCree, the latter whining about the cold before he had even packed a damn suitcase. Morrison found himself not in the mood for his bickering and hung up on him, calling Tracer instead - who then informed him a sour McCree was tailing along.

Damn them all. 

Miller had recovered as fast as expected, due to Ziegler's medicine. They had left the same day for a twelve hour flight, leaving a begrudging Reinhardt behind to guard the empty base in case Miller had attracted any tails. If Morrison would have had his wish, she would have just stayed there as well, but she insisted on coming along. After thanking him and Reinhardt about a dozen times, and apologizing for the mess another two dozen times, he couldn't stand talking with her over mission objectives and participation any longer and had given in.

And now, well, she kept trying to make conversation, detailling how she found the scientist's location and confirmed it through a tight web of contacts. It was good work, sure. He'd rather have a proper debriefing after they actually found her though.

Sighing heavily, he got up from the small wooden table where he had tried reading Ziegler's update on El Dorado. 

"You want some coffee?" offered Miller, and he nearly groaned. No. He didn't want any coffee. He wanted peace and quiet. Being here with her, all by themselves, in the middle of fucking nowhere, with backup another fourteen hours out, he was on the edge of losing it.

"I'm gonna do a parameter check" Morrison grunted in return, "Try not to get yourself killed in here."

She ignored his dig and shrugged. "I could back you up, you know."

"The fuck you will. Stay here." And after a brief pause, he added, "That's an order."

"Okay, relax" she rolled her eyes and filled water into the coffee machine. 

He could hear her mumbling something under her breath, probably calling him a smug asshole. 

 _Is it really too much to ask to follow my lead for_ once _?_

 

When he returned to the base, she was gone. There were no signs of forced entry, no signs of struggle. Not even Miller could be this stupid messing with him like that. Not even her.

He paced up and down the corridor, thoughts racing. Maybe she thought he had called for back-up after all? Maybe someone had tricked her? Taken her?

_Don't be ridiculous, she's a professional._

Still lost in thought, he only realized she was back when she stood right before him. 

"Oh! Hey. You're already back. Cool! I got us some ice for the freezer."

\---he was speechless. Was she fucking kidding him?

Miller went to stash a filled plastic bag into the freezer, and Morrison lost it. Without another word, he went to his room, smashing the door shut. 

Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.

A small knock on the door pulled him back, her voice gentle. "Hey. I was just behind the cabin. Like. Six steps. Really."

He didn't reply and sighed. A moment later, she began again.

"Look... I know you're pissed about what went down in Numbani, can we please talk about it?"

Morrison sat down on his bed, head in his hands. No. No they couldn't talk about it. They would finish this, because he always finished the job, and then he'd assign her to Reinhardt, make her his responsibility. Maybe Jesse even. He didn't really care. 

"I'm in my room if you do want to talk" she said finally, and he heard her footsteps retreat.

He sat on his bed, undecided on what to do. Maybe if he explained to her that it was important for them as a team to stick to orders she would get it? Maybe that was even what had caused her to be thrown out of the army? Insubordination? But then he heard glass clink, and he finally got why she went out for the ice - to make a goddamn drink.

It was bad enough that she risked her life for a mission, but going out by herself, even within close proximity, just to get some ice for a drink? Why would she do that? Why couldn't she stay safe for fuck's sake?

Furious, he opened the door, right on time to see her standing across from him, drink in hand. When she saw the expression on his face, she sat down the glass and walked to her room.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" snarled Morrison, and Miller turned around, raising an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"I said: Who the fuck, do you think you are?" His voice was strained, fighting hard not to outright scream at her.

Shaking her head, she straightened up. "I could ask you the same thing, you know. Strutting around like some big asshole, ordering commands that don't even make sense."

She dared. She actually dared.

Morrison took a step towards her, but she didn't flinch. She met his gaze and locked her eyes with his, looking nearly as pissed as he was. 

"I don't even know you. We met barely two weeks ago!" he growled at her in frustration, taking another step. 

She was so close now he could feel the warmth from her body radiating on his skin. Still, she wouldn't budge and stood her ground. 

"What do you want from me?" she asked eventually, brown eyes with grey spots still meeting his gaze. She sounded hurt, and it pained him more than he thought possible. 

He could feel her warm breath on his throat and chin, steady, small breaths. If he just reached out--

"I---" he started and couldn't finish. Her lips were rosy, she smelled like fucking almonds and she was so close. So close.

It slowly dawned on him that he would lose it. He fought hard to resist the urge to kiss her, heart accelerating in his chest, beating so loudly he was sure everyone could hear it all the way to Numbani. His gaze darted back and forth between her eyes and mouth, wordlessly asking permission he wasn't even sure he should ask.

Miller stared at him silently and he could swear she was trembling. Her eyes flickered to his mouth, and for a moment, he nearly thought she'd just lean in. But then, as if with a click, she seemed to realize something and snapped out of it.

"Get the fuck away from me" she hissed, voice strained. Her facial expression hardened, head held up high.

Without another word, he turned around and left. He closed the door to his room carefully, shocked at what just happened.

_Or at what could've happened._

Trying to get a hold of himself, he picked up his phone and texted Tracer to hurry. And after some consideration, he added a word he rarely ever used.

"Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhm. OOOPS I MADE MYSELF SAD. And angry. And frustrated. And madly in love with these two idiots.
> 
> PS: please let me know what you think, this chapter was so hard to write. oh my god and this is only the beginning *runs away screaming*


	7. Chapter 7

As soon as he turned around and left, Claire went back for her glass. The ice had already melted into her drink during the time they had taken staring each other down, arguing, but she didn't care. She gulped down the whole glass in one go, then refilled it with the Bourbon she had bought at the airport, and emptied another glass. Sitting down at the small wooden table, Claire groaned and let her head fall onto her arms.

_Well this went a lot worse than expected._

She had wanted to tell him. When she woke up on their sofa back in Numbani, Morrison looking at her with unhidden affection, she had decided her pride and trust issues weren't worth keeping a secret over. That she should give him a chance. Give herself a chance. That these people deserved better than her constantly omitting an important part of her story, possibly endangering them. 

But then he'd been this asshole, rolling his eyes at everything she said, constantly taking a dig at her, and she had changed her mind again. The longer they had been alone, the meaner he had gotten - confusing the hell out of her. One moment his eyes were full of warmth, the next moment he turned cold. It was exhausting to keep up with him, his mood swings, and worst of all, her own emotions following his lead whenever he opened his mouth.

What actually _was_ his problem?

If he had just been a bit less hostile, a tiny bit kinder - she probably would've come clean straight away. But him pushing her away again and again had just made her more nervous, had tensed her up to the point in which she just wanted him to know that he didn't need to be so controlling, that she could handle herself.

Instead, she had acted like a total rookie.

Claire knew damn well she had gnawed his ear off, talking too much and making things worse. She knew it hadn't been a good idea to leave the cabin against his explicit order, just to get some ice. She knew it had been her arrogance getting the better of her, trying to make a point against someone who wasn't even aware he was in an argument with her.

She had bought the alcohol in a rather desperate attempt to ease the tension between them. And the ice? Hell, she wasn't even sure anymore. Pride? Defiance?

As if she could ever get him to sit down over a drink and just talk. _As if._  All that she seemed to achieve nowadays was clumsily make her way around Morrison.

Morrison.

Fuck.

_I nearly kissed him._

...

_And then I pushed him away._

The reason why she reacted that way was rather simple. She didn't push him away, avoiding a kiss, because he apparently thought he was her superior and that was supposed to be wrong. _That_ she could manage. Or because she thought she wouldn't be able to handle working together and... wherever this was going. _That_ she could manage as well. Or because she didn't want to kiss him - damn her, she couldn't think about anything else anymore.

But when she had stood there, imagining how his lips would feel on her skin, she had understood something far worse: She cared for him.

 _I can't lie to him like this._  

He affected her, and worse: her judgement, more than she was willing to admit - and now here she was, third glass of Bourbon in her hand, not able to stop thinking about the way his jaw was shaped, wondering how his stubble would feel like brushing against the back of her neck. He had been achingly close, his face so raw, so honest, and in that moment, she just. couldn't. _think_.

How was she supposed to come clean when she couldn't form a coherent sentence anyway? She had needed time, time to process and time to think about what she was going to say, and how, and in what tone and with what words. So, learning from old Jack Morrison himself, she had pushed him away. Hard. It had seemed like the only way out.

With a sigh, Claire got up and went to her room. There was no way she was gonna sleep, so that gave her about six more hours until their back-up arrived. 

_It's plenty of time to think. Now think._

_________________________________

When she burst through the door he was lying on his back, fully dressed, arms crossed behind his head. He stared at the ceiling but jumped up at the sound of her entering.

_Here we go._

Stunned, his eyes widened. It was clearly a breach of privacy for her to just come into his room, demanding attention. But well, they've kept hitting new lows on a daily basis, so what the hell?

"What are you--" 

"I've lied to you" she interrupted him, getting it out as quickly as she could. "I've been meaning to tell you but I didn't trust you and then you've been like... this" she gestured at him, "and I-- oh god, I'm so sorry."

The silence was unbeareable. Morrison stood before her, lips pressed fimly together, brows furrowed. Claire bit her lip. She had expected him to flip, she had expected to fight. Not... silence. 

Yet, when it came to emotions, he was an open book. There was shock, frustration, disbelief, sorrow, and - most of all - exhaustion on his face. A wordless defeat, all summed up in a single look.

"Can we talk?" she asked instead, filling the void with meaningless words.

Confused, he motioned for her to sit. Claire sat down in an armchair at a small desk that stood next to the bed, and hugged her legs to her chest. Morrison looked at her a few agonizing breaths long, then sat on his bed.

"So it's true" he eventually said, sounding as tired as she felt.

Claire was perplexed. This was not the reaction she had expected. Although she never knew what to expect with Morrison anyway - he had either surprised or disappointed her at almost every turn. 

"You... knew?"

"Well I knew _something_ was up" he mumbled, slowly shaking his head, "but I guess I still haven't learned to trust my instincts."

Morrison sounded defeated admitting this, and her heart broke for him. It must have been hard losing an organization he built himself through the hands of one of his own. And now she had come to win his trust, only to be someone new lying to him all over again. No wonder he had issues trusting people.

Her silence probably went on too long, because when he spoke again, he sounded tense.

"Ain't much use putting this off now" he grumbled. He was right of course.

Mustering up her last scraps of assurance, she sat up straight and took a deep breath in.

"Everything I told you is true - I am working as a tracker, I did work for Vishkar. I... left out some important parts though" Claire began, trying to muster the courage to actually say the necessary words. "I'm good at what I do, but it took me years to track someone very important to me. He might be somehow related to some of your missions. I only recently found out about his whereabouts."

Sighing, she stood up and started pacing through the room. Morrison didn't reply, watching her in silence from the edge of the bed. 

"I don't really know how all the pieces are related - Lumérico, Vishkar, Talon, different corporations and organizations - but they do have a common denominator. Excellently trained mercenaries doing opportunistic or outright vile work, many of them coming from parts of the former Overwatch structure."

He let out a resigned breath at that, apparently she wasn't telling him much new. With a weary look on his face he stood up and gently grabbed her by her shoulders, a motion that reminded her of the small moment they had shared back in Numbani.

"Out with it" he simply said, his face serious but without anger. It felt bad that he wasn't furious, that he was simply exhausted and disappointed. Claire swallowed and suppressed a sob.

"They have my brother, Jack" she finally said, turning to face him head-on. "My brother's with Reyes."

He drew in a sharp breath.

"What do you mean, they have your brother?" Morrison sounded alarmed. "They kidnapped him?!"

She shook her head.

"No, no. He's _with_ them. He _chose_ to join them. Enlisted to your stupid Blackwatch chapter and got in so deep he never came back. And now he's out there doing god knows what to innocents, thanks to Overwatch."

Oh. That had hurt him, she saw it in his eyes.

"I'm sorry. I-- I didn't mean it like that."

"Yes, you did" he said, sighing. "They did a lot of harm, I guess."

Claire bit her tonuge. She got carried away by her anger - blaming him, even indirectly, was the last thing she had intended to do.

"I should've known you'd be the first to get how it feels to lose people you love to a rogue organization" she replied softly. It was the truth, she should've known that he could relate. 

But Morrison waved his hand dismissively and shook his head.

"You're not the only one who let's their emotions get the better of them. I--I guess I should apologize to you as well" he said instead, focusing on her once more. "For screaming at you, for taking my surmises and frustrations out on you. And for... -you know", he swallowed and looked down.

_For nearly kissing me._

"For invading your personal space like this", he continued, gesturing helplessy to the empty space between them. "I'm sorry for all that, honestly. Any asshole pulling this shit would've flown out of my team head first."

Claire simply nodded. They both had their stuff going on. While he definitely needed to work on his temper, she was sure it had been caused in large parts by his speculations about her intentions, brewing under the surface and boiling over once provoked too much. And while there was still a large part of attraction stirring inside her which needed to be handled in the future, at least there weren't any more secrets.

 _Underestimated him again_.

Smiling weakly, he gestured to the door. "How 'bout we see if there's any of that fucking ice you got left? Talk this over for real?"

It made her laugh, the tension between them slowly fading. "You're saying that now, but once your drink is ice-cold you'll be thanking me."

Walking behind her to what functioned as a living room, she could hear him snort. "Hate to break it to you, but stuff being ice-cold is the last thing that's missing around here."

Her heart jumped at his teasing. He sounded like a weight was lifted from him, and when she turned to smile at him, he looked as if years had been taken off his expression, voice and posturing. Their interaction felt more real than before, his voice lacking a certain edge that had confused her so before. Joining her at the table with a handfull of ice that he then dropped it into two glasses, Morrison looked relieved. 

He poured them both a drink, then nodded encouragegingly. "Start at the beginning, and we'll figure this out."

But before she could say anything, the front door opened and the shivering but otherwise happy looking Tracer and McCree entered.

"Ay, we're having a party?"

Jesse smirked. "See, Tracer? Right on time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, do you think Jack's happy about Tracer and Jesse rushing in, or do you think he's gonna throw his phone against the wall?  
> Next chapters will hopefully move the story along a bit, too.
> 
> PS: If I were to create a tumblr where you can send prompts, headcanons and other stuff and where I'll share some scribbles that don't fit into a proper fanfic, would any of you like that? Because I just might.


	8. Chapter 8

Watchpoint: Greenland was a comparatively small former Overwatch location. It was built during the Climate Change Education program, providing room for a couple of scientists and a small unit of yearly recruits, spending time there, training in cold weather. During the Omnic Crisis, the omnics had taken to all sorts of spots that were inhabitable for humans - Death Valley in California, remote Siberia and even underwater bases so deep below sea the water pressure hindered any attempt reaching it. While some of the international forces were used to different weather conditions, others needed to acclimatize first and were sent to Watchpoints like Greenland. 

_Could've used some acclimatizing myself._

The trip had strained his nerves quite a lot, and they hadn't even made contact with their target yet. The fight with Miller, her confession - Morrison was running low on his last energy reserves. Still, he felt better than he had in days - a tension lifted that had plagued him since he first had met her.

"If we don't move soon, my ass is gonna freeze and fall off, and it's a far too nice ass to fall off" grumbled McCree next to him. 

They were lying in the snow on a small hill and observing the gated entrance, the cold slowly creeping into their flesh. He couldn't wait to take a long hot shower once they got back. Or five.

"Since you're lying on your stomach, not your back, I would be worried about other parts first" countered Miller nonchalantly and Morrison snorted. 

"Oh I don't mind you worrying about my well-being, sweetheart" McCree chuckled, then pointed to a small bouncing dot in the distance. "Looks like Tracer's coming back from scouting."

McCree and Tracer's timing had been - well, it had refocused their priorities to the mission, which wasn't the worst that could've happened. He was definitely gonna talk to Miller later. Until then, Morrison had decided not to mention any of her unexpected confessions to the others, and it seemed as if she was following his lead. They would have to deal with it later, preferably in a quiet place, a warm place, a place that had a huge pot filled with steaming coffee.

"Weeeh!" the Brit charged towards them with unmatched joy, landing in the snow besides them. She chuckled, wiping away the snow from her face where she had landed.

"Saw the truck you mentioned, but nothing and no one else!"

Tracer smiled proudly.

"Good" Morrision mumbled in return, eyes still set on the gate. There had been no trace of anyone else since they arrived, and the gate was the only entrance he was aware of. Unless someone had altered the base's layout in the last decade, they should be fairly safe.

"Guess we'll find out" he said to himself, standing up. "Slow approach to the front. Tracer, I want you on our flanks. McCree, keep an eye on my back."

"I absolutely will" said McCree and winked, causing Tracer and Miller to laugh loudly. Morrison bit back a chuckle and rolled his eyes. Tracer and McCree. Why on earth had he picked this combo to back them up?

______________________________________

When they arrived at the base, it was eerily quiet. A truck was parked neatly on one of the few parking spots around the corner, and any traces of footsteps they might have found were already covered by the snowfall, which only meant that the truck hadn't been moved in hours. The gate was left ajar, so they went right on in. 

"Freeze! Don't move!" came a cute voice from behind, a small figure appearing in the corner of his eye, otherwise blending in with her surroundings. 

Morrison felt a biting cold paralyze him, ice slowly encasing them from their feet up. The cold stung like hell. To his left he saw the young woman point a strange gun at him.

"Hold up, we're friendlies" shouted McCree, arms raised high. He was supposed to watch their backs and had trailed behind, but they must've triggered some sort of trap when they first entered the base. It was such a beginner's mistake, it was embarassing.

Morrison heard Miller shiver next to him, his own teeth clattering now. The cold was intense, and it felt like his legs might break any second.

"Jesse!" exclaimed the woman, smiling, pulling down a thick scarf from her face. Then, taking in the circumstances, she let out a small "Oh" and hurried to their sides to shut down the trap.

"Oooops" she shrugged. "I thought you were the bad guys!"

"Thh-then I'm ju-just glad we're not" replied Miller, hugging herself against the cold. "We thought there might be bad guys i-in here though." 

"Yeah w-we weren't sure w-where that truck came from" Morrison added.

"It's mine! Well. Not technically. I borrowed it from a very nice shop owner!"

When he turned around to properly face Mei, the scientiest lightened up. 

"Morrison! Is that really you? You got old!" she exclaimed innocently. McCree burst out laughing loudly.

"Keep laughing, it'll happen to you t-too" the former commander grunted, still shivering, and scratched his head. But before he could say anything else, he felt small arms hugging him tight, Mei's face beaming up at him. 

"It's so good to see you!" she said, then continued to hug McCree, who tried to play it cool but smiled when she wrapped her arms around him.

"And you're new!" Mei established, stretching out her hand towards Miller.

"Yes, hi! It's nice to meet you. I'm Claire." She took the other woman's hand and smiled.

"She's the one who tracked you down" explained McCree, tipping his hat. "And Tracer's charging around here somewhere, too."

Mei smirked. "What a nice surprise! And all for me?"

The cowboy nodded and grinned. "We'll explain everything. But can we get somewhere warm first?"

____________________________________

Mei had eagerly led them inside, where one of the offices was tempered pleasantly. Stashes of notes, papers and samples were lying around on one desk, but the rest of the room looked dead, all of the furniture items being covered up with plastic sheets. Next to the desk Mei seemed to use was a whiteboard, that had what looked like fresh calculations drawn on it. Everything else - the floor, the plastic sheets, the lamps - was covered in thick layers of dust.

From behind him, Morrison heard the team laugh. Tracer had found them as soon as they got in, and now she was hugging Mei, vividly chatting with Mei and McCree. Seeing them lighten up the place felt strange. It reminded him of times long past and forgotten, and the familiarity contrasted the empty and vacated room. Morrison wandered around, wondering when exactly this station had been left behind.

Seeing old Overwatch bases like this was a bit hard for him nowadays. He had memories attached to most of them, some bad, many good. 

_It wasn't_ all _bad._

"Are you okay?" Miller asked quietly.

Apparently he'd been lost in thought rather deeply, because she seemingly appeared out of thin air. Standing next to him, her hand hovered slightly above his shoulder, as if she was too afraid to touch him. When he turned to look at her, she withdrew her hand and tried to smile empathetically.

"Must be hard being here."

"It's fine" he simply replied and looked at the others who still chatted happily, probably catching up. Miller mustered him silently, a small frown spreading on her forehead.

He hesitated. This was neither the time nor the place, and besides, there were other things they needed to get out of the way first.

_She wouldn't understand._

So, Morrison stayed silent, shrugging her off. Eventually, Miller nodded slowly and bit her lip. She looked thoughtful, but her eyes were filled with warmth. His heart lumped in his throat at the sight, a now all too familiar acceleration whenever she was near.

_Or maybe she would._

"Ay Morrison, Miller! You two ready to head on home?" called McCree from the entrance. "Mei says she's done with her research anyway."

"Oh, I'm _so_ ready to get out of here and some place warm" Miller laughed and walked over to the team, turning her head towards him and motioning him to follow.

"I heard Numbani's really nice! I can't wait to get there!" said Mei, clapping her hands.

Numbani. 

Numbani, with the outlook of spending some seriously needed time talking one-on-one with her, something he wasn't even sure yet he could handle.

Sighing, Morrison grumbled.

"Yeah. Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woop! it's a filler! needed to get this mission over with, so a little less alone time for Jack and Claire. But Mei! She's so fun to write omg. I love Mei.
> 
> also, I made a [ tumblr](http://overandoutwatch.tumblr.com) and spent my evening last night creating style cards for the Overwatch team. (and yeah that name's what you get when most good names are already taken. a pun-y one. ha!)  
> feel free to follow or simply send me prompts or blogs to follow or just write if you want to chat. <3


	9. Chapter 9

Mei was right, the sun was shining nicely in Numbani. It was a warm, sunny day. People and omnics alike were enjoying the cool breeze and relaxed atmosphere that carried all the way through the inner city. Although Morrison and the Greenland team had mostly spent the last two days sleeping off the jetlag, they all had been in a very good mood since their return. Both Greenland and Dorado missions were deemed a success, and they all deserved some time off. Some of them were still on another continent, like Reinhardt, who had flown to Germany to catch up with Brigitte, so their base was half-empty and quiet.

Morrison was sorting documents on his data pad, enjoying the calm. He had gotten up early, stretching and doing exercises before the others woke up, and was now sitting on the couch with a coffee in one, and his notes in the other hand. 

"Good morning" greeted him Winston, a jar of peanut butter in his fist. "Do you ever stop working?"

"The bad guys ain't gonna just disappear" lectured Morrison in return, but smiled. He was in a good mood today.

"Huh, true." The gorilla scratched his head and looked thoughtful. "Maybe this is something for you after all."

Looking up from his notes, the former soldier frowned. "What's up? Something happened?"

"Ugh, only that Genji contacted me last night. He's in King's Row, asking for someone to meet him there" Winston replied, "and I was thinking... maybe you want to go?"

Morrison sighed and took another sip of coffee. Originally, he had wanted to find a quiet place tonight in order to talk with Miller about her brother and the Talon-connection. On the other hand, getting Genji on board was something they had unsuccessfully tried for months, and if Winston was asking him to go, he probably had a good reason. It wasn't widely known that Jack Morrison was still alive, the former team covered his tracks as good they could - like they did for McCree as well - and in non-secure communication he was simply, if at all, refered to as Soldier 76. Maybe seeing him in person could convice Genji to join after all, who knew.

"Alright" he said, setting down the pad. "I'll go. But don't send Miller out on anything for long, there's something still up for discussion with her and I want her present as soon as I get back."

Winston adjusted his glasses, then shook his head. "Take her with you, then. We can't afford anyone standing around with down time and she can use more training."

"No" Morrison growled. He would not bring himself into any situation even remotely resembling the Greenland mission. Being alone with her for long and without a way out was too tempting, too hard, too confusing. She brought out the worst in him and currently he was simply relieved of not constantly being on the edge. Plus, who did the researcher think he was? He wasn't in command. No one was. 

"Uhm-" Winston began, but Morrison cut him off. Even now she influenced his temper, and she wasn't even in the room.

"I said: No."

"And I don't care. Get your aggressions in check or get out and do your thing alone." There was a sharpness in Winston's voice he rarely used, meaning business and not taking no for an answer. "I'm serious, Jack. Get it together."

After a moment of consideration, the gorilla got up and patted Morrison on the back, leaving him sitting there stunned. 

_He's right._

Of course he was right, but it pissed him off nevertheless. 

"Do what you must, but I'm leaving now. Send her after me whenver she decides to get out of bed, I don't care" he grumbled, standing up.

"Oh, you _care_ " mumbled Winston. 

Biting his tongue, Morrison put away his cup and went to his room to pack a small bag. 

_It's like I can't escape her._

With some luck he would meet Genji before Miller arrived. 

________________________

The knock on the door was in code: three short knocks, a brief pause, and a single bump against the door. 

_Guess I'm lucky after all._

He had waited in this horrible hotel room for about five hours. The wallpaper was coming down, the sink was dirty, the water had a brownish color. Sure, he was used to worse - but he also felt like he was too old for shit like this. Winston had probably booked the room for him, so he wasn't surprised it was a shithole. The scientist loved come-backs like this.

When he turned the doorknob, he was half-expecting Genji to be with company. The messages he had sent were cryptic, and the last news they had heard about him was that he'd been spotted in Hanamura. 

But instead- 

_Of course._

"Hey you" Miller greeted joyfully, ducking to get through under the arm he was leaning against the door frame with when he didn't move.

"Hey" he sighed, stepped aside and closed the door. 

"Sorry I'm late" she went on and smiled. "But I beat Mei and Jesse in poker twice last night, and they wouldn't let me go to sleep until they both got their wins in return."

"Uh-huh" he grunted, sitting down at the shabby hotel desk. Seeing her smile left him breathless nowadays, and this wasn't different.

He closed his eyes. He could do this. He was a goddamn grown man with more important things going on than the way her dimples lit up her face whenever she laughed.

"You've been waiting long?" she pulled him back from his thoughts, looking around the room and checking the backstreet from the small window.

"Yep" Morrison simply replied, then shook his head. He actually really did need to get it together.

_Just focus on the mission._

"Well, now that you're here, maybe we can get to business" he said eventually, a small frown on his forehead.

"Geez Morrison, maybe buy me dinner first" she laughed and winked, looking mischievious, lips pursed in fake-shock. 

His pulse accelerated and he stared at her with wide eyes. Images of them at a dinner table flashed through his mind, her body underneath his, her head falling back, throat exposed, his lips on her skin.

_No. No no no no no._

"Very funny" he mumbled quietly and swallowed, trying to push the intruding thoughts away. "I thought we had an agreement about your quipping."

"Oh, this wasn't quipping" she grinned. "It's called flirting. You should try it some time. Lighten up the mood, you know."

_If only she knew._

Gathering his last strength into a serious posture, he grimaced and then got up from his chair. "Thanks, but I'm good."

Miller rolled her eyes at him with a chuckle and sat down on the bed, taking her shoes off. "Always the grumpy commander, alright."

Morrison was this close to grabbing her head for a kiss, her forwardness turning him on in a way he had nearly forgotten.

_What the fuck was happening?_

But then she returned to a more colloquial tone, probably saving him from himself.

"Genji messaged us shortly after you left by the way. He's gonna meet us here tomorrow with a package."

"To-- morrow?" That couldn't be right. For fuck's sake. Not. Again.

"Yep" she shrugged, "I know you can't see my face anymore, but I thought I'll meet you here anyway. You know, talk things over."

"Mhhmm" he grunted, crossing his arms. "Think you can do that professionally though?"

_Look who's asking._

Miller sighed. "Okay okay. I'm sorry. Maybe I'm a little nervous being here... with you. Alone. After Greenland, which was.... well." She let herself fall backwards onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. "Not very professional. Or light. So I'm sorry for derailing the topic, I know you don't really like the teasing. It's just... you know."

He knew.

He doubted that she was nervous for the same reasons he was though. He did like the teasing - and now flirting???-, liked it too much, which was the whole damn problem. For her, it was hard to come clean and to open up about her brother - but for him, focusing on Talon and steering his thoughts away from the chills he had as soon as she got too close? If they were going to get through this talk, they'd need a proper meal first, and a few drinks second. A lot of a few drinks. 

"Alright" he replied and got up. "I'm gonna buy the liquor, you're getting us something to eat. I'm starving."

"I just took off my shoes-"

"You know they come back on, if you really focus on it."

She laughed and rose to the edge of the bed. "You got it."

When he left the room, he realized with horror that he was smiling. 

_Focus. On. The. God. Damn. Mission._

With luck, they both could get out of King's Row with their dignity intact. With luck, two bottles of bourbon and a gigantic effort of keeping his distance.

"See you in ten" she waved and he nearly went after her, feeling himself being pulled towards her. 

_Better make it three bottles._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey you all! i'm back! i hope you enjoyed this. uhm i also only now realized that i might need to write a smut chapter. i don't know yet how or if this will happen, but you're warned now anyway.  
> thanks so much for reading <3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoooooot damn you folks! over 1,000 views. omg. I love you all so much, thanks so much for reading this little fic!
> 
> to celebrate, here's something you've all been waiting for. enjoy.

Well, Jesse was right. Morrison did back down as soon as she had started teasing him.

'It's what I do whenever he gets all commanding officer in my face - I start making inappropriate comments' Jesse had laughed during their poker match after she had mentioned her slight anxiety around him, 'and I'm sure if you were to ignore the no quipping thing he got going, he's gonna leave you alone as well.'

'He is very... collected' Mei had analyzed while she had dealt the cards, 'a poor man holding it together. You should be gentle, not tease him.'

Since Claire had tried being gentle before to no avail, she had steeled herself with possible come-back lines all the way to King's Row. Turning the teasing up to friendly flirting had been a heat of the moment decision, but she was rather happy about the outcome - they hadn't fought, he hadn't turned aggressive and he seemed less annoyed than usual. 

But.  _But._

It was getting hard for her to deny that she liked him, liked the way his brow arched, his scars reddened, whenever she teased him a bit too much. The physical attraction she had felt in Greenland hadn't faded, on the contrary - she had caught herself staring at his ass the whole time while he walked through the living room in Numbani, earning her a knowing look from Tracer. The women had both nodded and grinned like idiots, but still. 

_I'm not really flirting to distract him, am I._

Quickly shoving some of the fries she had bought into her mouth, she leaned back onto the hotel bed. Morrison sure did take his time just to buy liquor. Was he really that picky about the brand? When someone knocked the code on the door, Claire had already eaten a handful of fries while she was waiting for him to get back.

"Got us some proper whiskey" he grumbled after she let him in, "but I couldn't get any glasses around here." 

"There are glasses over there" she said and pointed to the small table, shrugging, but he wrinkeled his nose in disgust. "I'm not drinking from these bacteria-crawled pieces of filth, and I'll be damned if I let you catch anything from them, either."

Morrison sat the brown paper bag down on the windowsill and gave her a small smile. His protectiveness was rather cute, although Claire doubted that dirty glasses were the biggest threat they were facing. 

He eyed the take-out bag from the window. "Fish'n'Chips?" he asked, passing her a bottle. 

"Yep." She had no idea what he liked - every time they travelled together they ended up eating some junk from the road anyway. Why end the tradition now.

Sitting back down on the bed, she patted cheerfully on the empty space next to her. "Let's eat first, or I won't see the end of this bottle."

Morrison stood in front of the bed indesicively, and after some hesitation, sat down next to her. Legs spread out long, backs against the headboard, each a bottle of liquor in their hands and the take-out bag between them, they started eating. They were halfway through their food when he spoke again.

"I've been back for over ten minutes and you're not in my face yet" he said while he dipped a couple of fries in his sauce, "did you hit your head or something?" 

Laughing, she shook her head and swallowed to clear her mouth from the fries she was eating.

"Thought I'll give you a break for once."

"Mh-hm" he grunted, but she saw him smile quietly from the corner of her eye.

_It's either telling him or making inappropriate comments again._

"So..." she began. It was long overdue. 

"So" he replied, looking up at her with a stern face, his smile gone as quickly as it had appeared. 

"Guess you have some questions" Claire said and opened her bottle, then shoved half a piece of fish in her mouth that she washed down with two big gulps.

Morrison nodded, but waited patiently for her to finish eating. Eventually, he turned, leaning against the wall with his right side, facing her and watching her intently. 

"Start from the beginning."

______________________________

"Was that why you got kicked out of the army?" he asked, packing up the trash from their finished food. "You lashed out in frustration?"

Claire had told him about how she had always admired her brother, Eric, and how their family losses during the omnic crisis had made them both eventually sign up for military life. Eric was much older than Claire, so she had watched him rise up in the ranks in the then new-formed European joined forces, a geopolitical response to the international Overwatch team the UN had established. Similar attempts had been made in other regions of the world - the APACMI, Asian Pacific Military, for example. She had been so impressed that she had decided to pursue the path for herself.

Morrison had listened silently, nodding from time to time and sighing in agreement. Eric had joined because he had wanted revenge, righting the wrongs committed against their family - but Claire had joined because she wanted to become a good soldier, better even than her brother, and make him proud. 

_And then Blackwatch happened._

It had been Eric's dream to join Overwatch, but he had settled for the EUJF instead. One day, he had called Claire, screaming for whole minutes before he calmed down: they had asked him to complete the recruiting process for a small select special unit within Overwatch. That night, they had met and celebrated until dawn, dancing and singing until their throats were sore and their bodies tired.

"No" Claire replied, sinking down lower, bottle firmly gripped. "I got kicked out because Eric set me up."

Morrison sat back down next to her, his knees bent in a lazy cross-legged position. His bottle was a quarter down and he seemed more comfortable already, now that they were actually talking in seriousness. The mood was relaxed and Claire found herself to trust him, trust his judgement. She really should have told him much sooner.

"Go on" he simply said, slouching down into an even more convenient position.

"At first he did the whole process with Overwatch without anything being strange or out of the ordinary. They said they had found him, spotted him, somewhere on some mission, I forgot that part, sorry. But anyway, he did the whole thing, and they took him in - we were so happy, so blissful." 

Thinking back to the good old days was hurting her and distracting, so she took another sip from the bottle. 

"I don't even like whiskey that much" she complained quietly, and Morrison smiled at her empathetically. 

"Noted."

Sighing, she went on. "But then they started the proper training, and all of a sudden he couldn't tell me anything anymore. 'It's not Overwatch, Claire - it's even better!' or some bullshit like that, always with the secrets, and then, later I realized: lies."

Morrison grunted. "That's not how it was supposed to go."

"Yeah, I believe you" she continued, shrugging at the thought. It didn't even matter anymore. They were all different back then. 

"Eventually, he asked me to 'help him out' with a mission", she rolled her eyes when she made air-quotes, "expecting me to give him EUJF intel that was classified. He knew damn well I couldn't, I wouldn't give it to him. I don't know if he was testing me, or trying to get rid of me in order to protect me...-" she stopped and swallowed. "But he asked me anyway."

"What happened?" Morrison turned his head to face her, still looking down on her although he was nearly lying on his back.

Shaking her head, Claire set the bottle on the nightstand, got up and started pacing around the room. 

"One day I got summoned by my commander. Intel's been leaked, been sent - from my computer. I think my good record and the fact she wanted to believe an outsider leaked the data rather than one of her own were the only reasons I wasn't charged with treason. Instead," she stopped and looked at Morrison, throwing her arms up in defeat, "I got kicked out."

She bit her lip. Sure, leaving the army had sucked, but what really hurt was the betrayal she had felt. The betrayal by her brother.

"You know he did it on Blackwatch's orders, right?" she asked him, and Morrison slowly shook his head, rising out of bed.

"I'm so sorry this happened."

"Eric just disappeared. I never heard from him again" Claire continued, ignoring his apology. She was disappointed. Bitter even.

_Starting to sound a lot like Morrison now._

"No one believed me, except for my commander - not even my closest friends! No one. Oh, Eric had framed me good. And for what? I don't even know."

They hadn't been raised to pursue fame or fortune, and her brother had always wanted to avenge their family's losses through service and doing good. Sacrificing his own sister for a mission? Had she really not known him at all?

She took a deep breath. "A few years later I started digging. Managed to convince my ex-commander to seal up any records from my time when I figured out that Eric wasn't simply an Overwatch agent, but rather a hired gun for a rogue chapter that called itself Blackwatch. When Overwatch fell, I thought I could find him again - until... well. Until I found more and more pieces of mercenaries, gangs, terrorist groups and other shit that all connected back to Blackwatch."

Morrison had walked over to her and now stood in front of her, looking at her with compassion. 

"And now you want to find him and bring him back" he concluded, and Claire nodded.

He crossed his arms, left hand touching his lip scar unconsciously while he seemed to think. 

"Ain't gonna be easy" he eventually said, "and you need to tell the others, share everything you found out."

"Of course."

"Still. He could be too far gone. I've seen it before." Morrison seemed remorseful, pained, and she knew all too well how he felt. Yet, he appeared to be willing to take a chance on her, support her, and Claire felt a wave of relief wash over her.

"So you're saying I can stay? And you'll help?"

Rising an eyebrow, he smiled gently. "Yeah, guess so."

"Holy shit. Thank you so much!" She couldn't believe it. "You're actually much nicer than you try to be."

"Uhm--- thanks?!" he chuckled and shook his head.

They both looked at each other and smiled, a quiet moment that went on longer than... what? Longer than professionally reasonable? Longer than friendly people looked at each other?

"Okay, I'm gonna... be right back" she said, and in what must have been the worst intuition of her life, leaned forward to give him a small kiss on the cheek.

Only--

She missed his cheek. She'd argue later that it wasn't on purpose, but who was she fooling? Instead, her lips touched his skin half-way between his mouth and his cheek, brushing against his scar, his lips, his stubble. 

_Oh  s h i t._

Claire felt him go stiff underneath her, and when she opened her instinctively closed eyes she still had her lips on his mouth corner. Slowly backing away in horror, she stared at him with wide eyes. Morrison was breathing short, quick breaths, brow furrowed in confusion and shock.

"I---"

His hand was in her hair before she could start her sentence, pulling her towards him. When his mouth crashed on hers, properly this time, he let out a small moan that turned off any common sense she's had left. Morrison kissed her with the passion of a man who didn't care about anything anymore, his hand in her hair, on her face, on her neck. With his other arm, he hugged her body tightly to his own, two people melting into each other with desperation. 

Claire grabbed him in return, left hand on the back of his head, her thump gliding over his throat, her other hand sliding under his too tight shirt and gently scratching his back. The sound he made in return was so low and deep she felt it throughout her body. He bit her lip, both tease and want, and their kiss grew ever more passionate. A soft sigh escaped her throat, and when they stopped after what felt like seconds and years all at once, both breathing heavily, gasping for air, none of them said a thing.

_Fuck._

"Fuck." Morrison said, dread in his eyes. He backed away from her slowly, as if scared, as if not to scare her, both at the same time. 

_What the fuck just happened---_

Claire's mind was blank, except for her heightened senses, 

_\--- how did I never notice he wears cologne---_

which all screamed his name. Morrison stared at her, his mouth hanging open and his brows furrowed alarmingly.

_Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck I fucked it up---_

She turned on her heels, too ashamed to stay, too angry at herself for spoiling this, too longing for his touch to be near him. When she got to the door, she mumbled her goodbye, once more, not looking back for fear she'd do something so profoundly horrifying like  _kissing him_ again.

"I'll be right back."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ................................uhm yeah so this happened. 
> 
> :D
> 
> (I know you hate me for the end of this chapter, don't worry, there will be more kissing in the future. I think. Maybe. Probably. HA!)


	11. Chapter 11

"Wait."

She was at the door, but he'd be damned if he let her leave again. This whole thing was ridiculous. They were ridiculous.

"Should I apologize?" he wondered aloud, voice teasing her. "Because I would have stopped right away if you hadn't kissed me first."

Claire turned around, pouting. " _I_ kissed _you_ first? That wasn't even half a kiss!"

He laughed and threw his hands up in the air, making a surrending gesture. The tension that had build up washed away, both grinning at each other from a safe distance. At the same time Morrison could still taste her on his lips, could still feel how soft her hair was and how her back had arched in his arm when he had bit her lip. She was about to destroy him, and he damn well knew it.

"What are we doing here, Claire?"

Saying her name for the first time felt... good. She raised an eyebrow, maybe in response to his question or to him calling her Claire, he wasn't sure. But she didn't reply and shook her head, apparently unsure what he wanted from her.

"We ain't no goddamn kids" he explained, "and frankly I can't take much more of this."

It was true. His nerves were wracked. His body was demanding more of her to the point it began to hurt. His heart hadn't beaten a normal rhythm in god knows how long and he was starting to question his sanity. 

_If I can't escape it, I might as well tackle it head-on._

They were adults. Even though she was younger than him, and not only by a few years, she was a grown woman. He knew she made reasonable decisions in other situations, he knew she disliked talking around stuff as much as he did.

Yet, here they were, chasing each other like teenangers. 

"I don't know" she sighed, taking a small careful step towards him. "I-- I really don't want to screw everything up with..." she gestured at the empty space between them, "this. Whatever this is."

Morrison took a step back to give her more space and leaned against the window, feeling safer from himself the further away he was from her.

_Safer and more desperate._

"Maybe I _should_ buy you dinner first" he said after a brief pause, attempting a weak play at the flirt she had made earlier. "See where this goes. Outside of any missions." 

Adding the last part was crucial. He was too much soldier, too much leader, basically: too used to his old ways, that he would start screwing around with squad members during mission assignments now. Even if this was more than physical attraction, it didn't belong here. Especially then. 

At least that's what he told himself.

_Lord help me, I can't fall for her._

As long as he could still pretend that this was just a crush, everything was about to be fine. They could go out, once, twice, maybe work this thing out of their systems. And then he could re-focus on more important things.

"I'd like that" pulled him a quiet voice back, and she smiled warmly. She didn't tease him or quipped in return, but simply said yes. 

"It's a date then" he said weakly. With delight he saw her eyes sparkle from the other side of the room. 

_I'm such a fool._

Morrison nodded and scratched his head. "Okay then."

"Okay then."

They both didn't say anything but watched each other in awkward silence. Seezing the moment, Morrison took a few seconds to properly look at her. She was wearing the dark red sweater she had worn the first time they had met, and her hair was tousled from their kiss. Her cheeks were slightly reddened, reminding him of the softness of her face when he had touched her, of the sweet sound of her moaning into his kiss. He could feel the tension rise again, his body aching for her once more.

"I think I'm gonna take a shower" he announced suddenly, taking his shoes off before she could reply and before he could change his mind. A shower, even in this shithole, would be better than staring at her hungrily for the rest of the night. He would simply turn up the cold until he forgot his name.

Claire didn't respond, at least not right away. Biting her lip and saying nothing, she watched him take his shoes and socks off like she was at the goddamn movies. 

"Damn you're easy to entertain" he grumbled, stopping halfway through taking his shirt off when he realized she was still staring at him. 

"Nobody told you to get undressed in front of me" she protested softly, "but I'm not complaining."

Her voice was flirty. Too flirty. Teasing him.

_Again with the fucking teasing-_

It was now or never. Rushing to the other side of the room, he sighed and steered right ahead to the bathroom without even looking at her. Morrison was going to lock this room tight, get into the shower, maybe sleep in there if that's what it took.

\---The door wouldn't lock.

Of course not.

_Thanks, Winston._

"You really think I'm going to bust in while you're in there?" he heard her through the door, probably refering to his unsuccessful attempts with the broken lock. 

"Yeah well judging from the look on your face I ain't the only one needing a shower right now" he grunted back, taking his shirt off. 

Claire laughed. "Age before beauty, old man."

"Oh baby, you have no idea."

He wasn't sure why he called her that, he hadn't used that word in years. She always seemed to bring out some former parts of himself he had thought dead, and this wasn't different. From the other side of the door, he heard her groan and curse something he didn't quite catch, sounding as if she hurt herself by accident.

Quickly, he opened the door to make sure she was alright, but when his gaze met hers, she was simply sitting on the bed, biting her nails. When she saw him, she jumped up from the bed, her forehead wrinkled in anger.

"Fucking hell, Morrison" she groaned, louder than before, her eyes darting from his face to his upper body.

_Oh._

He realized that this, this right here, standing half naked in front of her, this was a horrible idea.

"First you're asking me to stay, only to escape into the bathroom, making me wait here like an idiot while you cool off. And then every fucking time I try to lighten the mood, you come at me with some flirty shit and," she pointed to his naked torso, "the fuck is this?!"

She sounded about as self-restraint as he felt, mouth opened and eyes fixed on his arms and shoulders.

Morrison felt his resistance melting away, and he was scared shitless. He knew where this was going to go. He knew it the second he had asked her to wait, to not go, to go out with him, the second she had said yes. But now this, her straight up refusing to take any more of his angsty shit from him, he lost it completely. She was forward with him in a way nobody ever was, and he loved it. 

Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he started one last attempt. 

"We can't do this" he grunted more to himself than to her. 

"What I can't do is go on like this" she countered trying to sound cross, but she ended up sounding hungry instead. 

_Might as well-_

She took the few steps she needed to cross over to him and stand before him, looking up at him in a challenge. Then, slowly, she took her sweater off, hair falling out of her braid onto her shoulders. She looked radiant, and if he hadn't been full with need before this little stunt, he would have been now.

The thing was, he was already losing his mind, scrambling to gather the last pieces of self-control he had left. He had been proud of getting into the bathroom without taking a detour towards her, and now this--

_I should've just let her leave._

Morrison swallowed hard. Why was she coming at him like this now?

"Stop it" he commanded, but his voice was barely a whisper.

He must've sounded desperate, because Claire halted, changing her posture and giving him some space. But then, after viewing him up closely, she seemed to reconsider and took another half step towards him. His posturing wasn't fooling her. It was getting hard not to give into his instincts right now.

He wanted this. Her. _Her._

Who cared about keeping up pretend during a mission, he wasn't a soldier anymore anyway--

But Claire wasn't done with him yet. He closed his eyes, trying to push the sight of her out of his mind. When he opened them a few breaths later, she was in the middle of taking off her jeans - _when had she taken off her shoes?_ \- and his mouth went dry. Wearing nothing but panties and a bra, she suddenly laughed and shook her head.

"I really don't like whiskey, you know" she said, "cause I can't even blame this on being drunk."

"Are you serious with this right now?" he growled raspy and low, trying desperately not to look at her body, her skin, the way her hip curved under those panties--

The hollowness of the question seemed to amuse her, because she chuckled. "Technically we already had dinner, so-"

"Oh for fuck's sake" he interrupted and grabbed her, lifting her up by her hips, mouth finding hers in a second. She swung her legs around him, steadying herself in his arms.

_If I can't escape it, I might as well tackle it head-on._

When he carried her to the bathroom, she broke off the kiss, his head in her hands, and smiled gently.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and he grinned, slowly stroking her back and legs. 

"Taking a shower" Morrison replied innocently, "And you're coming with me."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck this was hard to write.
> 
> I have a lot of stuff going on the upcoming week(s) but I really wanted to already share this with you. Just be warned, it may take a bit longer than my usual schedule until I can post the next chapter!
> 
> <3
> 
> PS: THANKS WINSTON


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about everything in this.

"Mhhmmm, shower sex" Claire purred as he carried her into the bathroom. He was holding her with ease, the muscles in his arms and chest hardly strained at all. 

"Who said anything about sex? Maybe I'm just giving us some time to cool off" he murmured in response, his hands cupping her ass, pulling her tighter against himself.

"I'm sure you do" she whispered in his ear, leaning forward. Looking at him seductively, she started grinding her hips against his groin, wearing a big grin on her face. She could feel his erection through the fabrics of their pants, feel his length harden against her crotch. If he still thought he could win this game, he was beyond help. Morrison groaned deeply in response to her movements, his voice not really giving away whether he was more annoyed or aroused. But with his eyes closed, his mouth found hers for a desperate kiss, and Claire settled on aroused. At least for the time being.

She freed one hand to trace his chest down to his stomach, her fingers slipping into his pants, gently making her way down to his crotch. When she got to his pubic hair, taking her time exploring him, he shuddered in anticipation. With a sound that was half sigh, half moan, he tightened his grip, his fingers digging into her skin and leaving scratches on her back. Claire took her time, teasing him for a bit with her hand while she slowly started kissing his throat. Her thump gently rubbed small circles on the tip of his cock, and he swallowed slowly. Morrsion closed his eyes as she took him fully into her hand and started stroking him with long tantalizing movements, his dick already fully hardened in her hand.

_Oh man,  he's perfect._

He sighed into her mouth as his focus began to fade and the frequency of his kisses started to slow down, and after a few moments his mouth simply hung open, unable to concentrate on anything else than her hand around his dick. Apparently he had not been prepared for her to take the initiative, and his heavy breathing turned her on so much she could feel her pants dampen just from the sounds he made alone. Morrison drew in sharp short breaths, and Claire could see him pull himself together, his eye lids fluttering whenever she hit a sweet spot. His arms were beginning to give way - not because he was getting weak, no, she could feel him get impatient. He held onto her for dear life, and for a moment she thought he was going to throw her down onto the floor and take her right there. Even though she didn't have a lot of space to move her arm against the tight jeans he was wearing, she eased her hand up and down with a steady grip, listening to how his breaths turned into whimpers.

When he eventually sat her down, she was forced to take her hand out of his pants. Panting, he stood before her, trying to catch his breath. Sweat had pooled between his shoulderblades and rolled down his stomach to his waistband.

"You never let me have any fun" complained Claire, and Morrison just glared at her silently, eyes dark. Licking his lips, he unbuckled his jeans and stepped out of them, carelessly kicking them away. His gaze was fixed on her, and when he spoke again his voice was barely a growl. 

"Get into the shower" he commanded, and when she pouted playfully for a second, he added a "Don't make me make you" that sent sparks into her lower belly. 

_Yes, sir._

_________________________________________

Her hair fell onto her bare shoulders, and she looked so soft, so perfect, it was getting hard for him to concentrate on the task at hand. Morrison hesitated for a few seconds after he'd taken off his jeans, his erection straining against his underpants. He had called it, had moved this forward, but following through? There was no turning back from this.

_I'm in hell._

But before he could continue doubting the path they were taking, Claire looked over her shoulder, her eyes luring him to her, and he felt his will break down. Giving in, Morrison tore off his remaining clothes, standing naked in front of the shower cabin. Oh, she wanted to play, he knew that. He wasn't quite sure thought if she really knew what she was getting herself into though.

When she turned around to check on him, his eyes hungrily took in the view. She had taken off her bra. Her breasts looked firm and full all at once, and his mouth twitched with the urge to cup her soft flesh with his lips. There were scars on her torso, some of them nearly faded, some of them still shining reddish, and the impulse to meet every single spot with his mouth rose. Seeing how his eyes devoured her she smirked, then let her gaze glide over his own body. Morrison knew he was good looking, he knew he still had it, thighs and arms muscular and strong, not all of his hair grey yet, his dick fully erect. He met her gaze with half arrogance, half taunt, and she bit her lip in return. A wordless battle for dominance, Claire started making a move to take off the last piece of underwear she was wearing: her panties. 

"Don't" Morrison growled, and raising her left eyebrow, she stopped. "Let me have something to tear off of you" he explained, his voice full with need.

"Better get in here then" she smiled and turned on the water. 

When he joined her in the shower, he carefully pulled her backwards towards him, longing to be close to her. With her bare skin against him, she moaned quietly as he planted kisses on her neck and throat, trailing her stomach, the curve of her hips and her breasts up and down with his hands. His length pressed against her ass, and when she started moving her hips, he let out a coarse whimper. 

_Definitely hell._

He craved her so much that it was difficult for him to take his time enjoying her, even though he wanted nothing more. Blindly reaching for the water tap, he turned down the water temperature, hoping it would cool him off enough to not finish in an embarrassingly short time. It had been so long since he had been with anyone, and he didn't quite trust himself to not haste everything forward far too quickly. He chuckled softly when she gasped in surprise from sudden change in temperature.

Everything felt somehow more intimate, wet skin rubbing against wet skin, standing in this hell of a bathroom together, caressing each other. 

She turned around to kiss him, murmuring quietly into his touch. He knew he could never win this. Her fingers were in his hair, on his back, on his thighs, and in a reflex he pushed her against the cold tiling.

"Do you ever stop fighting?" she grinned as if she was in charge of the whole thing.

"Do you ever shut up?" he grunted in reply, holding her in place with his body.

Claire had the dirtiest smile on her face. "Make me."

Shaking his head, he tightened his push against her.

_That won't be a problem._

His kisses grew more demanding, sucking and biting her lips, throat, skin. His hands glided over her wet body, and she squirmed against his touch. When she moaned quietly into their kiss, her hand reaching for his dick, massaging him with firm, longing strokes - Morrison decided to switch it up. With a groan he closed his eyes, his mouth leaving hers to wander down her body. Everything about her was tantalizing, and he wanted to taste her, all of her. 

He trailed slow kisses down her stomach, teasing her with small bites. When he kissed her inner thighs and her slit through the fabric of her panties, he knew exactly that he was torturing her - but pleasing her nonetheless.

"Oh" she let out a small groan that was surprise and realization at the same time, and it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. With a smug grin on his face, he looked up to her.

"Mhh hmm" he replied, and hungrily pulled down her pants.

_Guess she can shut up after all._

The water from the shower was still running over both of them, but he could taste her arousal on her folds. Tempting her, he licked her with long, lazy movements, and she moaned loudly. Morrison smirked. Oh, he would fuck her against the wall later. But for now he was so turned on from pleasuring her, he couldn't help but grin. As she climbed higher and higher, Claire held onto his shoulder, digging her nails into his skin. They'd both have their marks after this, but it didn't matter.

His tongue found its way to spots that made her buck her hips against his mouth, and when he looked up again, mouth still on her, her head had fallen back against the wall. With her eyes closed, she grabbed his head, making a fist in his hair as she grew more ecstatic, breathing quickening underneath him. Feeling up her body with both hands, he devoured the softness of her skin and the shape of her curves.

Morrison knew that this wasn't enough, that he would need more time, more occasions, to explore her body until he knew every last bit of it by heart. But for now, he just wanted her, wanted to see her lose herself, wanted to lose himself to her. When he slowly pushed first one, then two fingers inside her, she gasped for air and moaned his name. 

She was so wet, so ready. He wanted, _needed_  to be inside her. His erection was pulsating now, longing for her touch.

_Not yet._

He continued teasing her for a few more precious moments, enjoying the sounds she made and the way she rode his fingers with her hips, meeting him in a rhythm he changed again and again until she pulled his head up for a kiss.

"You're too good at this" she sighed, cheeks red and out of breath.

"So I've been told" he tried to sound casual, but his younger version of himself was far too nervous, far too caring about her to make it sound as cool as he intended it to. Claire only rolled her eyes theatrically and chuckled, then kissed his forehead with such familiarity and affection it took his breath away. Yeah, they were both all talk, sure. But this...

_Not.... yet--_

He couldn't wait any longer. She was everything. Taking a step back to look at her, he suddenly remembered something crucial.

"Shit" he groaned. Sure, he had bought three bottles of whiskey, but no protection. Because why would he anyway--

"Wait" she chuckled and darted out of the shower into the bedroom, leaving small puddles of water wherever she stepped. Claire returned moments later with a condom she was already in the process of pulling out of the package.

_How...?_

When she rolled it over his cock, taking her time to tease him, he pulled her head up for a hungry kiss. This was it. He couldn't wait to be inside her.

_No turning back now._

Pushing her up by her hips and propping her up against the wall, it took him merely a moment to slide into her. She wrapped her legs around him and tried to steady herself with her arms against the wet tiling, but failed miserably. It didn't matter. He had her.

She was hot and tight around his dick, and so soaked it took him merely one pump until his erection was covered in her juices. Not being able to hold back his desire for her any longer, he pushed hard and quick, taking her breasts into his mouth as he fucked her against the wall. Her head lolled back, and her moans grew more erratic and intense. He was so turned on, she felt so good, feeling her lose herself against him felt so good, he was about to lose it. It took him his last pieces of self-control to not come right there and then, but he wanted to feel her orgasm around him, with his dick inside her. Grunting from ecstasy and effort, he sucked on her nipple, and it finally tipped her over the edge. She came hard, her cunt clenching and contracting around him. With a few more pumps he let himself go, coming inside her with a low groan. 

As the last waves of his orgasm washed over him he rested his forehead against hers, and when he opened his eyes, she smiled at him. Slowly, his surroundings came back to him - the water that was still running over them, her fingers in his hair and at the back of this neck, her body in his arms. He carefully withdrew from her, paying attention to not slipping off the condom by accident. When he sat her down gently, she wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled her head against his chest. Wordlessly they stood in the shower, letting the water warm them, caressing each other tenderly.

There weren't many moments that Jack Morrison would fully consider happy times, but this moment, this moment right there --- 

_This won't end well._

He silently decided to keep this moment as a happy memory.

_Might as well try._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry again----
> 
> onto a more regular schedule and normal content soon.


	13. Chapter 13

There was a hand on her stomach and somebody was breathing down her neck. Like. Literally. Deep long breaths came from someone behind her, and slowly waking up, she felt her body squeezed against a warm torso, big, strong arms holding her tight.

_Jack._

So it hadn't been a weird sex dream. They had actually spent the night together, and now she woke up in his arms and it felt really good. Claire's heart skipped a beat as she gently fondled his arm, sliding her fingers over the back of his hand. He hummed, half-awake or half-asleep, nudging his head closer against her hair. 

_Oh. My. God._

Yes, she had wanted him, provoked him, to the point of no return and whimpers and moans. And they had both enjoyed themselves. But waking up like this, being so close to each other that she could feel his heart beat in his chest on her shoulder blade? It made her _feel_ things, for _him_ , and she had just about convinced herself that this was simply a very complicated affair. 

_I need some air._

With a small, regretful sigh, she carefully crawled out under his arm, trying not to wake him. He looked adorable sleeping, and Claire felt herself smile at the sight. She tiptoed around the room, collecting her clothes that were still spread out from their encounter, then quickly wrote a note that she pinched between the door and the frame as she left the room.

_____________________________________

_"Get out of my way, you pathetic piece of shit." His eyes were narrowed alarmingly, and his feet stood hip-wide apart, a strong stance, ready to fight. If he didn't knew better, Morrison would think that Gabe was looking for an excuse to punch him. But that couldn't be, could it?_

_When he let him pass, his former friend hurried past him without so much as looking at him. A frown on his face, and no words on his lips._

_"_ _Can't we just talk this over for once?" Morrison attempted, a last straw he so desperately tried to grab._

_Gabe paused, back turned to him. "Typical" he spat out, "little Jacky-boy thinks he can just charm every fucking shit he's ever done away."_

_As he tried to reason with him, tried to tell him not to leave, that they could fix this, the fire alarm started ringing: an unbearable sound that just peeps peeps peeps--_

 

"Ughhhhh" Morrison grunted as he slowly got to himself. Something was ringing.

_It's the damn phone---_

With a sigh, Morrison turned around, still sleepy. His hands reached for the nightstand, trying to find and eliminate the horrible sound. He was so _. tired_. 

"Yeah" he mumbled into the phone, sinking back into the pillow. The dream still haunted him, and he had no idea what the fuck was going on.

"Morrison? Listen man, what's going on with you and Miller? Neither of you answering our damn messages?" McCree sounded somewhere between confused and worried, his tone accusatory and stern. 

"Uhm-" Morrison rubbed over his eyes, trying to clear his head. He hardly got any sleep last night - not that he was complaining, but still--

_Miller._

_...Claire._

The last hours came back to him in flashes: the shower, the warm water, her moans, her panties on her ankles, the smell of her hair, the way they had fallen asleep cuddled together under the big blanket. 

Bolting up, he discovered that the bed next to him was empty. Where was--

"Ay, you there?" McCree was impatient, no doubt about it. Morrison paused. Jesse getting annoyed with him was rather unusual. 

"...yeah. Present." 

He would have to deal with this later and figure out what McCree needed first. 

"What is it Jesse? Genji hasn't made contact yet" he yawned, slowly getting up. He sat on the bedside, scouting the room for his clothes. 

"He speaks! And in full sentences!" Over the line, he could hear the other man blow smoke from his cigar. "Did you get Genji's messages at all? We need you to move quickly with him, he's got a tail. Says he ain't got no confirmation from his contact - you!! - on any of his messages."

Softly cussing under his breath, Morrison checked his inbox. Several unread messages and unanswered calls sat brightly colored on top, and he rolled his eyes.

_This is why you don't get involved on missions._

"I'm sorry, we had a -" he paused briefly and coughed to hide the uncertainty in his voice, "ah--- rough night. I'll get everything in order right away."

McCree snorted, and Morrison could basically hear his grin over the phone.

"Rough night, huuuuuh?" There was no need to imagine him wiggle his eyebrows, his tone said it all.

Morrison sighed. He was not going to argue this with him now. Besides, why would even assume anything out of the order would have happened? 

"AHA!" McCree shouted in triumph, then continued friendlier than before. "That wasn't really a denial now, was it!"

With a groan, Morrison swung his legs out of bed and looked around. Her belongings were still there, only her clothes and shoes were missing. 

"I'll let you know when we're back on track with Genji" he stated matter-of-fact, then hung up, not waiting for McCree to get out any more inappropriate information from him.

How McCree did that was beyond him. Morrison had barely realized himself that he wanted her in ways he didn't really allowed himself to think about, had barely had the time to understand what had happened. Still, one stammered sentence and his friend was on him in the blink of an eye. 

_Clothes. Get the fuck up._

Grumbling to himself, Morrison stumbled through the room to find a shirt. When he passed the door, he saw the small piece of paper pinched into the frame. 

 _Getting us breakfast!_  
_brb xxx Claire_

A fat grin spread across his face, he couldn't help it. 

_Duty first._

Time to get in touch with Genji.

_________________________________

"I can't believe you didn't tell me you were alive." Genji sounded sour, shoulders sunken in and head bent low.

He had every right to be angry with him. They had known each other for some time, and when he had disappeared - or, _died_ \- Morrison had left them all behind. Reinhardt hadn't spoken to him for three weeks after finding out he was still alive, and he still gave him shit for it from time to time. Some of the others had been more forgiving, but Jack sometimes saw their hurt or disappointment flicker in Tracer's or Torbjörn's eyes when somebody mentioned the explosion or the aftermath. 

But this was his life now. He hadn't been there because he had made a choice. 

"I'm sorry" Morrison said, not knowing what else to say. Several conversations like this in, and he still had no idea how to explain or justify any of it.

Genji must have heard the sincerity in his voice, because he looked up and gently nodded. "I believe you."

Morrison could hear Claire let out a deep breath next to him. She had watched them silently, completely focused on their interactions. After she had returned with some coffee and toast, they had only waited a short, totally not awkward and silent while until Genji had knocked the code, nearly losing it when he spotted Morrison. It was the first time she saw him interact anew with a former Overwatch member, and he could tell she was highly interested - and apparently, she had been a little anxious as well.

Genji chuckled when he saw Claire's tense look, her hands tightly hugging a cup of coffee.

"Shall we get to work, then?" he suggested.

"Please" she breathed, then realized how far she was leaning forward, sitting on the edge of her chair as if watching a movie. Laughing softly, she stood up. "Sorry you guys, but this was really thrilling."

"Glad to keep you entertained" Morrison said, accidentally making it sound way dirtier than he intended, and she blushed. It was the first time since last night that he addressed her directly, which felt strange. Well the whole thing was strange.

_We really need to talk._

Genji exchanged questioning looks with both of them, but didn't say anything. Instead, he steered the conversation back to topic.

"I managed to take a picture of the tail. Once we're clear of them we can get the package."

He handed them a data pad that displayed a blurry picture of two shadowy figures. They were wearing what looked like hoods, dressed in casual but functional dark clothes. 

But there was more.

Somewhere in all the blurriness, Morrison recognized the clothing style, the posturing - and the small decorations pinned to one of the figures' belt. Morrison had handed them out himself, and he knew some of the folks he had awarded them with liked to wear them on their belts, some in-group thing that set them apart from the rest. There was no doubt about it. They were former Blackwatch members.

"This thing is for holograms." Claire pointed at a blur. "I think that's what they use for communication in Lúmerico. Can't see much else though" she complained, zooming in and out of the frame to find more details. 

"Unfortunately they did not stop for me to take a proper picture." Genji's voice was all smirk, and for a second Morrison was sure his younger version was sitting there with them. 

 She chuckled and then searched his eyes. "What about you? You see anything?"

_I can't tell her._

It would send her straight out on a quest to find her brother, to catch - rather than lose - the tail. But, more importantly - he wanted to double check, to be sure, before he put her in any possible extra danger.

_She's gonna be so pissed._

In the theme of making horrible life choices, Morrison shook his head.

"Nope. Just shadows and blurs."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heyyyy thanks for reading! any feedback here or on tumblr or wherever is super-appreciated. i love your comments so much, i treasure them in my heart. <3
> 
> ps: sorry for the rollercoaster ride that was this chapter, but i needed to move this forward a bit :3


	14. Chapter 14

"She's got it, okay?" Morrison was starting to get a little annoyed. They still hadn't lost Genji's tail in the crowd, and Miller --- Claire--- was on her way to get the package while he and Genji tried to shake off the mercenaries. 

The younger man had asked him twice already if sending Miller out on her own was a good idea, and Morrison started to take it personal. He was in charge after all, trying to steer them through this mess of a mission, and having Genji up his ass doubting his decisions wasn't helping.

_Also, Claire._

"You lied to her" Genji suddenly said very calmly, while they were pushing their way through a crowded subway station. "You saw something on that photo." Quickly evading a couple crossing their path, he turned to face him. "Why?"

Morrison sighed, bumping into a woman who was carrying a large grocery bag. "Excuse me" he mumbled, then tried to keep up with the ninja who abruptly switched his direction. 

"Her brother might be involved" he admitted.

_That's not the reason and you know it._

Genji remained silent, casually checking if their followers were still behind them. After a pause of silent hurrying through the station, Morrison shrugged. He was about to say something when Genji pulled him through a small exit into a shady alley.

"There", Genji nodded towards a corner, "we pass this and turn right around into the station once more, and we should be good."

"Nice work" Morrison agreed. Working together brought back memories of old times, and not completely unpleasant ones. He and Genji had accomplished some missions together, and the way he handled himself seemed to have only improved since the last time they had met. They hurried along the path back into the subway station, then took a random train to make sure they weren't followed. Three changes later, Morrison was sure they were in the clear. They were supposed to meet Miller later outside of the city, and now being actually able to move freely made that far easier. Winston had texted them their pick-up spot, saying they were in for a special treat. 

Sinking down into a pair of seats after two more transfers, Morrison breathed deeply. Shaking off the tail had been difficult, but they had done it, and Miller had texted them that she successfully had picked up the package and was on her way to see them. He wasn't about to admit it, but she had been on his mind the whole time, and he had worried constantly about far too many things: her having a tail, her facing problems with the package, her not being able to find the meeting spot, _her_ most of all. And Genji had picked up on that straight away, thinking Morrison didn't trust her.  

As if reading his thoughts, his friend cleared his throat.

"So." Genji folded his hands in his lap, speaking soothingly. "Tell me why. The real reason."

Morrison rolled his eyes. What was it today with all of his friends being in his face?

_Not him too._

Exasperated, he waved his hands. "Hell, I don't know why. What does it matter?"

To his surprise, his former friend just chuckled. "Putting on a mask cannot hide the man you are, Jack." 

"Wha-"

"You have not changed. Your emotions are simply out of balance."

Slowly closing his mouth, Morrison stared at him in confusion. Intel had indicated that Genji had found spiritual guidance, but being lectured by his former subordinate about life, about _his_ life, felt unfamiliar and made him tense.

With a strained voice, he disagreed. "I'm not the man you once knew."

"Of course not. But I believe you will be yourself again when you allow yourself to know you." Genji sounded sincere, and Morrison bit back a spiteful reply. He wasn't really in the mood for any self-discovery shit, but he appreciated him trying to help nevertheless.

"So where did you get all this from then?" he asked, not-so-subtly changing the subject. 

An audible kindness in his voice, Genji sighed. "Let me tell you."

* * *

The airship had been a sight for sore eyes. It was big, a little dusty, but still very functional - and it was theirs. 

The ship was sitting in an abandoned storehouse on the edge of a rundown airport. For once, Morrison had agreed with Winston - having their own airship made everything so much easier. Returning to Numbani with Genji, Miller and their package via common public or even private transportation was close to impossible, so Winston finding this thing and paying some local supporters to get it up and running again was a gift he wouldn't dream of rejecting. 

When they had entered, Genji and Morrison had found Miller already waiting for them - the "package" speaking with her calmly yet engaged. Genji had introduced him as Zenyatta, his mentor, the one he had talked about on their way there. Getting him out of King's Row safely was Genji's demand in order to support their efforts concerning investigations and securing former Overwatch agents. 

"Could've told us your package was a living being" complained Morrison, and he was extra glad they had the airship now. 

"Oh, like you could have told us you weren't dead?" Genji innocently wondered aloud.

_Okay, I deserved that._

He sure had to eat a lot of shit today, and most of it rightfully so. Morrison had hoped that he would get a grip on the way he handled himself lately, but instead it seemed like his behavior was an open invitation for everyone to give him their piece of mind.

When he felt a hand on his arm, he looked up. Genji was watching him intently, as if evaluating something. 

"We will refuel on Ilios, will we not?"

Morrison shrugged. "Yeah, guess so." 

Checking if anyone was in earshot, Genji lowered his voice to a small murmur. "You look like you need a break."

"I'm fine" sighed Morrison, shaking his head. 

"That was no question" his friend stated, determination in his voice. "We will refuel, stay overnight. You two-" he made a small gesture towards Claire, "can go and talk."

The groan that followed was both defiance and defeat. Yeah, they probably should talk. 

_But not about what Genji wants me to talk about._

"Jack---" his friend began, but Morrison waved his hand. "When did you become the responsible one?"

The playful undertone clearly audible, Genji shrugged. "Oh, I don't know... maybe when you _died_?"

Perhaps getting some time off from this wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

"How did your day go?" Claire asked when they were walking through Ilios by themselves. She didn't really know what to say, they still hadn't talked, but seeing him, being alone with him, was a nice feeling.

_Shit, I missed him._

Going through his hair with his left hand, he smiled weakly. "Exhausting in more ways than expected."

He looked flustered, nervous yet adorable, and Claire wanted to hug him, snuggle her head against his shoulders, and hold him. 

"How come?"

Morrison let out a small sigh, then looked at her strangely. His eyes were warm, but there was a frown on his forehead that slowly spread.

"Let's find something to eat first" he said, and he sounded tired.

Genji and Zenyatta hadn't accompanied them - "we're not really big eaters" - so now they were trekking through the small idyllic town on their way to a restaurant. Claire hummed approvingly. By now she knew that there was no getting anything out of Jack Morrison if he didn't want to share, so she dropped it right away.

"So does that count as a date?" she switched the topic, and by the way he coughed shortly, then turned red, she knew he would have preferred the other subject. Morrison slowed down, coming to a halt at a dimly lit street corner. He shifted his weight from one leg to another as he stood there and watched her silently for a moment.

"If you want" he then said with a hoarse voice, eyes scouting her face for clues. 

Claire's stomach twisted into a million knots. Yes, him taking her out for dinner was what they had agreed upon. Before... fucking in a lousy hotel shower. They had talked about it. But actually doing it? Going on a date? With... him???

Without thinking, she nodded as her heart felt like bursting through her chest.

"Yes", she whispered back.

His smile was soft, and wide, and made her long for a kiss. 

_Going on a date. With Jack Morrison. NOW._

Oh boy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh I can finally write the dinner scene in the next chapter! yayyyyyy :3 thanks for reading - I'm getting to the real good stuff soon, promise.


	15. Chapter 15

The place was small and cozy, blue candles sitting on the less than a dozen tables, already burnt down considerably. There were a few other guests, local music played softly in the background and the noises from the chitchat were comfortably loud. One could talk without being listened to, while not having to scream against a too high volume of background noise. 

This wasn't the best thing about the place though.

Claire noticed the pictures as soon as they got in: frames of different sizes hung on every wall, seamlessly melting into a single big collage of framed photographs. A waiter welcomed them heartily and led them to a table for two in a corner, and when Claire turned her head to look at every picture she saw, Morrison let out a quiet groan.

"I forgot about the photos" he said, sinking into the bench to her right. 

"But how? They're amazing!"

They really were. Photo after photo depicted different members from Overwatch in their uniforms, apparently having been stationed nearby. Some of them hugged the waiter who had just greeted them, some of them smiled into the camera next to the cook. A few simply pictured Overwatch agents posing happily in front of the restaurant. Claire recognized Torbjörn, Mercy and Reinhardt, and then, on the wall behind Morrison - Jack, smiling into the camera next to a bearded man wearing a beanie, and a beautiful dark-haired woman hugging them both. He looked so relaxed, so vibrant, it took her breath away. Sure, she had seen the promo shots, had grown up with his face in the news, but the photo had captured him in a different life, a happier life, and it showed. 

He grunted next to her, and she returned her gaze to him, a little embarrassed about her staring. His expression didn't give anything away, but it must have been hard for him to sit here, surrounded by all those memories.

"Do you want to go somewhere else?" she asked with a quiet voice, worried about him. 

Morrison looked up and smiled weakly. "I'm quite the grump, aren't I?"

Claire laughed. "Understatement of the year."

He chuckled and shook his head. "It's the first place that came to my mind for... a date" he explained, seriousness returning to his tone but the warmth remaining in his eyes. "I'm not really good at this anymore."

"Anymore, huh?" Claire smirked and thought of that photo, Strike Commander Morrison laughing into the camera with confidence and lightheartedness that made her heart beat a little faster.

Morrison leaned back and spread his left arm on the seating bench, grinning. "You know I was young too once, right?"

"Pfff, don't give me that old man shit. You were pretty damn awesome last night so stop acting like you're a senior citizen or something."

She blushed a little remembering the night before, _how was that only last night?_ , but held his gaze. Morrison looked at her strangely, but before he could say anything, the waiter showed up to take their orders. 

"Any preferences?" Morrison asked, and Claire shook her head. "Feel free to recommend something. I'll eat about everything."

He ordered them a bottle of red wine and some local food as entries that she couldn't place but found to be delicious after the first bite. She was munching on something with goat cheese, when she saw Morrison stare at her form the corner of her eyes. 

Raising an eyebrow, she looked up at him, and he smiled. 

"So how are we gonna do this?" he asked, taking a sip from his wine. 

"Man you really are out of practice" Claire teased in return, a small wink playing around her eyes, "but honestly, so am I."

He scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. "How can someone like you be out of practice on dating?"

_Having a dysfunctional relationship to your brother who's gone MIA-_

"I don't know. Lately half the time I'm too busy, too angry or simply too uninterested" she admitted, and found it to be true.

Sure, the thing with her brother and her inconvenient lifestyle were supreme reasons not to date, but if she was being honest with herself, she never really had found anyone she had actually wanted to keep seeing. The few people she had met over the years that had peaked her interest had given up on her after realizing with what kind of baggage she came, so she had dropped them early on.

"And the other half?" he asked, eyes meeting hers with an intensity she wasn't prepared for.

She laughed nervously. "The other half I'm working for you, working with you, or am simply not-dating you."

Leaning closer to her, he propped himself up on his forearms. "So which half are we in right now?" he whispered, and her mouth went dry. "You ain't too busy now, nor do you seem angry. Plus I ain't given you any orders nor are we at work."

It was hard for her to keep focus, the way his low voice vibrated in her ear. Swallowing slowly, she shook her head. "Those were the reasons I wasn't dating" she said quietly, immediately regretting this badly executed deflection when she saw him smirk playfully.

_Don't._

"'Course..." he started, and somehow moved even closer. "But then what are your reasons you're on this date after all?"

_Fucking hell._

She wasn't shy. Not really. Last night she had provoked him to the edge of losing it - and then beyond - after all. But this, this felt different. More real. Here, she had to deal with her feelings, her feelings for him. Every answer she could give him would end up just the same, unacceptable confessions she wasn't even ready to make to herself.

_I'm on this date because apparently I'm falling in love with you._

Claire bit her lip and looked away, breathing deeply, changing the mood from flirty banter to a heavy-weighing implication she wasn't prepared to deal with.

_Should've just quipped something back._

With a regretful sigh, she looked into his eyes. Morrison's mouth was still half smile, but there was a hint of a frown on his forehead, apparently undecided on how to read her.

"Is it so hard to believe I just like you?" she said after a moment, sounding more reproachful than intended.

To her surprise, he chuckled. "Well I've known that you're weird for quite some time now."

Claire snorted. Still with the surprises. When she was being honest, this was part of what thrilled her about him - he was always different, more, than she expected. The way he made her laugh felt so good, so natural.

She pouted dramatically and rolled her eyes. "Aren't you the smoothest."

* * *

 

Their food came, and it was divine. The waiter beamed when they told him everything was amazing, keeping his gaze on Morrison for a bit longer than usual, but saying nothing.

They talked about different things, having steered away from the flirting a bit after her admission. Morrison told her about his youth in Indiana ("cozy, small, home"), how he had once lost a drinking match with Reinhardt in a German pub ("Seriously, I still think he was cheating") and what kind of food he used to bring to the Overwatch meetings ("roasted potatoes and sweet corn"). Their conversation flowed nicely and easily, both being eager to getting to know the other one. 

When they finished their food, Morrison leaned back smiling. "This went better than expected" he said absentmindedly, and when he realized he said it out loud, Claire chuckled. 

"Why, did you think I was gonna bore you to death?" she asked playfully. 

"Oh" he replied, lowering his voice, "with you I'm more scared you'll lure me into another bathroom."

"The bathroom was your thing though" she grinned, and for a second she could still feel his mouth on her skin. Morrison threw up his hands. "Hey. No regrets there."

"Oh, good." She actually hadn't been sure whether or not he regretted the previous night, and hearing him say something like this so openly was a rare occasion. Maybe it was the wine, the fact that they got to know each other better, or the relaxed atmosphere, but she could swear he was being different. Lighter. Less worried. More himself.

He placed his hand on her cheek, thump rubbing soft circles on her cheek. "Don't ever think I could regret anything with you" he whispered, voice hoarse but gentle. 

The sudden admission made her throat lump up, her heart beating so loudly it was hard to hear her own thoughts. Sliding up to him, she reached out to touch him, going through his hair with her hand, stopping at his neck and caressing him softly. Morrison closed his eyes at her touch, and when he opened them again it was only to pull her in for a kiss. 

His mouth was warm, and soft, and he tasted like wine and something sweet. The stubble from his beard rubbed against her skin, but his movements were so slow, so delicate, she could only sigh and savor every last second of it. It was different from their desperate making out the night before - more precious, more romantic, more _loving_. 

When their lips parted they both smiled at each other, a little insecurely but happily. 

"This really did go better than expected" she whispered, and Morrison rolled his eyes at her before kissing her again, making her feel like she was gonna burst with happiness.

Hopeless. She was in over her head, and completely, utterly, hopeless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooops I made myself even more in love with them


	16. Chapter 16

The routine they had established over the last months was a welcome change from his previous years spent running and hiding. To his own surprise, his relationship with Claire fit into his new, regular schedule rather smoothly. They would spend whatever small amount of time they could find together, and go on separate assignments during the rest. London had been nice, but they had both felt the fear of something happening to the other one gnawing at the back of their minds, keeping them distracted. Morrison had been worried he would have to insist on separating their relationship and their work, but since of both them had military backgrounds conforming to hierarchies, it hadn't even been a topic to discuss. 

Despite it all, he still hadn't decided on telling her about his suspicions regarding the ex-Blackwatch mercs that had tailed Genji back in King's Row. Initially, he had wanted to confirm his hunch over the summer, wasting time and energy on a wild goose chase for mercenaries and Blackwatch documents. But Summer had faded into fall and fall had merged into a rainy winter, and for all intents and purposes, Morrison still hadn't found anything that gave him any more decisiveness on the matter. 

_I'm not even sure if it relates to her brother at all._

There were so many former Blackwatch members now working as mercenaries, the connection he had made to Claire's brother could have been purely accidental. Scolding himself for being so paranoid, he had wanted to tell her about the decorations and insignia countless times, but his previous silence on the matter had built a wall of guilt around him too high for him to climb. Instead, he had asked Claire and her team to look into the Lumérico connection, a task she had embraced with passion.

Morrison sighed, walked faster, and straightened his shoulders. He was late for the debriefing and he shouldn't occupy himself with matters he couldn't change anyway.

_Could always just tell her._

Softly cursing under his breath about his own decisions, he entered the makeshift briefing room in the Gibraltar base.  

"- and how's your contact coming along, darlin'?" 

McCree leaned back against the wall, carefully sipping his tea, blowing air into the steaming cup before drinking. 

"Good" replied Claire, browsing through their debrief material. "At least that's what I think."

Morrison raised an eyebrow and scratched his chin. "Still no personal contact?"

When she heard his voice, she looked up and beamed. It was adorable that she still had the very same reaction to him whenever they reunited, and Morrison felt a smile spread on his lips in return. 

"Awwwww" Tracer interrupted their moment, chuckling and grinning widely. 

Quickly returning to her professional self, Claire shook her head, put away the debrief, and shrugged.

"Well..." She cleared her throat. "He's really difficult to get a hold of. And he says he only deals his information in person. But I've verified everything he told me about him so far, and I think he's worth the wait."

"Then we shall proceed, with caution" Zenyatta agreed next to her, eyes closed and hands folded in front of him. Sometimes it was really hard to tell whether the omnic was lost in meditation or simply minding his own business in standby.

"Agreed" nodded McCree.

"Ay" smiled Tracer and stood up. "That's it for today then, isn't it?"

They all looked at Morrison expectantly and he sighed. "Okay, okay. Guess I'll catch up on the debrief later." 

His decision was met with cheering, and McCree patted him on his back on the way out. "Might wanna get a watch" the younger man quipped.

"Then who's gonna tell me what time it is again and again?" Morrison asked back, and McCree tipped his hat, grinning. 

"Hey you" said a quiet voice to his left, and his heart quickened its beat. 

"Hey." Morrison turned around with a smile, leaning into Claire's hand that reached for his face. "I've missed you" he murmured, closing his eyes at the touch of her palm. 

"Missed you too, old grump" she whispered, planting a soft kiss on his closed eyelid, chuckling. 

_She deserves better than your silence._

The previous thoughts still heavy on his mind, Morrison opened his eyes and wrinkled his forehead. "I gotta talk to you about something" he said and bit his lip nervously.

Her eyes widened. "Did something happen?" 

The worry in her voice felt like a punch into his stomach, the guilt paining him. "No, no. It's just something I've been thinking about and figured I should tell you."

Some of the alertness in her eyes faded, and a small smile spread on her lips. "Good. Because I have to tell you something as well."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fuck, I'm so sorry this took ages to update. Well in case anyone still reads this: I'm picking this up again and found an outline on how to continue this. So you'll get more of Jack and Claire. Should you still want it.  
> xx


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